


Sickdays and Comfort

by JackandMarkaremySunandStars (ImagineBeingSafe)



Series: In Sickness and In Health. [1]
Category: Jacksepticeye -fandom, Markiplier-fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Anxiety, Autism, Autism Spectrum, Autistic!Reader, Bathing/Washing, Belly Rubs, Caretaking, Child!Reader - Freeform, Childhood Trauma, Chronic Illness, Comfort, Comfort Food, Cramps, Depression, Emotional, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exhaustion, F/M, Family Issues, Fear, Fluff and Angst, Food Issues, Friendship/Love, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Injury Recovery, Literal Sleeping Together, Love, Love Confessions, Magic, Massage, Mental Health Issues, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Parent-Child Relationship, Pet Names, Protective Siblings, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Indulgent, Sickfic, Singing, Sister!Reader, Sleep, Soul Bond, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Stomach Ache, Stomach stuff is kinda my thing, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Notes, Tickling, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, True Love, Vomiting, meltdowns, papa wolf, period, raspberries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-09 22:39:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 19,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14724935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImagineBeingSafe/pseuds/JackandMarkaremySunandStars
Summary: All the hurt and sickness and being taken care of by Jack And Mark!Not just physical hurt, either.Author is self-indulgent.{If you have an idea, just ask. If i think i can pull it off, you might get something written for you!}





	1. The first day isn't usually that bad….

**Author's Note:**

> as always, none of this is based in reality. It may be based on real people, but this is just a story. It's just stuff pulled from my head, that i think others might like.

Waking up to unhappy cursing was a bad sign.

 

Mark opened his eyes, your side of the bed was empty, and there was blood in a particular spot…

 

It wasn't anything that hadn't happened before. The sheets needed to be soaked in cold water, they were older- you'd gotten your cycle down to the week of and prepared the bed.

 

He heard the shower start.

 

He sighs. The team was ready to start a new project, You were eager to be camera girl.

 

You were good at it, reading him and never taking long to get the shots he wanted.

 

But now this…

 

You came out wet haired, in a robe.

 

"Are you going to be okay today?" Mark asks, wanting to give you an out.

 

"Yes. The first day is never that bad for me."

+

An hour or so later, what you had said earlier felt like you had lied straight to his face.

 

It wasn't- what you'd said was normally true. But mother nature was an evil bitch sometimes.

 

But you felt guilty. He needed you on this project. So you kept going.

 

Even though it felt like the painkillers you'd taken never quite kicked in.

 

Even though, when you broke for lunch, you were too worried it would come back up later to eat much.

 

As evening crept closer, you were flagging.

 

You'd slipped into going through the motions, trying to ignore the pain in your lower abdomen, the exhaustion you felt sweeping through you.

 

When Mark called cut, you saved what had been filmed, and sat on the ground near one of the walls, pulling your legs in so you're sitting cross- legged.

 

It was a mistake, you had no idea how'd you get up again. Then again, you didn't care that much at the moment.

 

The others attention was elsewhere.

 

You wrapped both of your arms around your stomach, and leaned forward, your head close to the carpet. When your stomach was upset this sometimes helped, and you hoped it would this time.

 

You weren't paying attention, too focused on not making noise, or drawing attention to yourself.

 

A warm hand on your shoulder. You lifted your head up.

 

Mark. [With the softest eyes and a small sweet smile that was just for you.](https://78.media.tumblr.com/3d50cb903b15fa9132aa36cef6173f2f/tumblr_p8wpkgRpLw1vs985po2_540.gif)

 

It was quiet, and you realized everyone had left.

 

"We're starting filming again a day from now."

  
He looked at you, and then continued.

  
"It won't change a thing, this isn't something I've hyped.

I've talked about it, sure, but it's a surprise. No-ones waiting. You aren't stopping anything from being done."

  
For Mark could read you, too. He knew you worried about failing. Failing him, failing the fans.

 

"Let's go home, Y/N"

 

He held out a hand to pull you up.

 

You wobbled, and his hands went to your sides to steady you.

 

"I gotcha, baby. It's okay." He murmurs, pulling you to him, resting his head on yours.

 

You groan softly.

"I'm just glad today's over. God, and tomorrow's more of the same"

 

Mark's hand slid up and down your back.

 

"Tomorrow's tomorrow. We'll get through it."

+  
Now you were on the bed the two of you shared.

 

Mark was laying flat, and your head was on his stomach. You were curled on your side, legs pulled up so you were slightly fetal.

 

You were holding one of Mark's hands, his other one switched between stroking your hair, playing with it, or stroking your side.

 

Your other hand held the small heat pack, that looked like a black furred kitten with blue eyes, to your belly.

 

You got up one more time to change what needed to be changed, and then curled back where you were.

 

You'd taken more painkillers, they were kicking in. Heat pack was working it's magic.

 

You started to fall asleep, waking only for a moment as Mark shifted, getting into a position he could sleep in. He pulled you partway on top of him, wrapping an arm around you, then relaxed again.

+

When you woke up next, it was light out. You could smell breakfast in the air- Pancakes, bacon, coffee- was that chocolate, too?

Your stomach snarled it's displeasure at having been neglected yesterday.

You went to the bathroom, cleaned up, and headed down stairs, not bothering to change out of your pajamas.

Mark smiles when he sees you.

 

"I was going to bring this up to you, but since you're up-

-unless you want to go back to bed!"

 

"Nah. I may not be up for much today, but I should at least get out of bed."

 

You smiled as he placed a plate with chocolate chip pancakes and bacon in front of you.

 

"See, I'm learning," He said with a wink.

 

You huffed a laugh.

 

Today would not be hard. Not with this wonderful man beside you.

 

When you walked into the living room after breakfast, there was another surprise waiting.

 

Mark had turned the couch into a blanket nest.

 

"I thought a nest, and whatever show you'd like to marathon would be a good day."


	2. Life Left To Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on a request by: BibliophileTimelady  
> Hey, so... I'm in a really bad place right now, mental-health wise, with TRIGGER WARNING depression, self-harm urges, and suicidal thoughts. And I would forever be grateful if you could write Jack comforting his fem!S/O who's dealing with that kind of stuff and ignorant jerks telling her to just get over it. If you're comfortable with that kind of thing, of course. Thank you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Based on a request by: BibliophileTimelady
> 
> Hey, so... I'm in a really bad place right now, mental-health wise, with TRIGGER WARNING depression, self-harm urges, and suicidal thoughts. And I would forever be grateful if you could write Jack comforting his fem!S/O who's dealing with that kind of stuff and ignorant jerks telling her to just get over it. If you're comfortable with that kind of thing, of course. 
> 
> Thank you.
> 
> Please look at the tags, and be careful.
> 
> Parts of this, have lyrics from SafetySuit- Life Left To Go, which partly inspired this. the italicized, bolded in-between parts between two lines are lyrics
> 
> Some of this is based on my experience with depression and suicidal thoughts.  
>    
> I'm alright now, but it's still a fight.
> 
> Also, catch the Chicago Fire quote. I thought It would fit Sean and his S/O.
> 
> As ever, none of this is based in reality. It may be based on real people, but this is just a story. It's just stuff pulled from my head, that i think others might like.

It falls apart in pieces.

 

Work. Oh, work.

 

The same complaints:

 

_"Why is it so expensive?  Why don't you have 'seasonal item?' I just got it yesterday!"_

 

There were others who treated you as sub-human, barking orders like you were a machine.

 

You liked working stock, but it had it's downsides.

 

Dylan, who worked along side you half the time was pissed that a female was assigned to work with him. You did the same work as him, but he didn't see it, just every mistake.

 

_Which he never let go._

 

Then there was Isabella. You'd liked her until she'd seen you taking your anti-depressants.

 

She'd chimed in with a "Aw, you don't need those. Just exercise, and this awesome diet I found!"

 

Every so often she'd chine in with a-

 

"I found this supplement/juice mix/new exercise routine. It helped me when I was low, try it!"

 

You wanted to laugh in her face sometimes. If that worked for her, she really had no problems.

 

_That's not how it works._

 

Everyday, every week the same.

 

 

Home- home was almost worse.

 

You used to be able to make something of your days off, spent them creating.  Pages of doodles,  paragraphs of worlds.

 

Now you'll spend hours looking at a blank page, until your phone goes off, reminding you that the world needs you to keep going.

 

You do your best to act normal, to keep up.

 

Sometimes you are grateful that Jack loves pizza so much, because you just can't gather the energy to cook sometimes.

 

But it's hard. You wake exhausted, you go to bed exhausted. There is no inbetween.

 

+

Sean asks you to help with a video.

 

All you remember in the end, is all the times he'd had you adjust because you hadn't gotten it perfect the first time.

 

 He was never harsh, didn't snap. Just gently corrected, or showed you again what he needed.

 

You're _amazed_ he **didn't** snap, or yell. You could feel all the mistakes.

 

_You were always making mistakes._

 

He probably used you because you were the easiest solution.

 

 If he'd had any one else to film, you knew he'd drop you in a heartbeat, _you were sure._

 

After, you're in your office, which you're using less as a workspace, and more as a place to hide, now.

 

You're hit with memories of the first time you helped him, of laughing. _Of being proud._

 

It makes you cry.

 

_This video was nothing to be proud of. Robin will probably protest the quality. Sean will have to do it on his own somehow. Be better that way._

 

You reach for Andrew, the bear had since you were three. He lives in your office now, you don't need him to sleep, you have a Sean to hold, and keep away the nightmares.

 

You'd feel guilty, though, just tossing him in a box.

 

You hold him, face buried in his fur and you smell home and childhood.

 

It keeps you grounded enough to not make you act. To pay for your mistakes, and failures.

 

+flashback+

 

_You used to._

 

_Clawing at your arms, trying to tear it all away, scratching-scratching-scratching, left raw-red._

 

_Shut up the voices._

 

_Useless. Clumsy. Failure. Fuck up. Worthless. Why would anyone want you? For anything?_

 

_The red lines proof of payment for all that was wrong about you._

 

_The look on Sean's face when he'd seen. God you never wanted to see that look again._

 

_How'd he'd checked meticulously for blood, for split skin. Because to you it wasn't hurt at all._

 

_How he'd then kissed every inch of red skin, looking at you with only love in those forever-blue eyes._

 

_Made you promise to come to him before this happened again._

 

_How he had found other ways to help:_

 

_Drawing on your skin with washable markers: loving words, nonsense patterns._

 

_Trailing ice cubes down your arms, as non harmful sensation._

 

_Little things to mimic, but not hurt._

+

 

The day the video posts, Sean is buzzing about the fans reaction, how much they love it.

 

You smile, but it's forced. The first time a video you'd helped with posted, it had felt like fireworks.

 

Now nothing.

 

But Sean doesn't see, already talking about the next one. The mask is perfect.

 

+

 

Then the next day off you have you don't really get out of bed.  You grab Andrew from your office, go back to bed, curl up with him and sleep.

 

You wake up to the sunset and the sound of footsteps in the hall.

 

  _Sean._

 

You're so thirsty that your throat hurts, but he looks concerned, and you hate that you've put that look on his face.

 

So you ignore your needs and put your mask on again

 

**_-And the mask you put on_ **

**_It's like words in a song_ **

**_But there's more to be seen-_ **

 

"I'm okay, just- it's been busy at work. Tiring. Just needed to catch up on sleep."

 

It works again.

 

Pizza and Spider-Man:Homecoming.

 

Though it goes too quick, suddenly it's credits and you're blinking back confusion because you'd not really been watching at all. Didn't really eat your share of pizza either.

 

You just want bed again, to be honest.

 

But that night, sleep is not coming. Thoughts run through your head. Sean's next video, work the next day,  just life. How much there is of it. How you just want to sleep, and not wake up.

 

The next day you're stocking, and you completely and utterly fuck it up. Your foot gets caught on something, and you knock a ton of boxes over. You see it, all you've caused. Your eyes sting with tears.

 

Dylan is screaming.

 

" **YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT! I TOLD TASHA NOT TO LET A GIRL WORK BACK HERE!** **QUIT FUCKIN' CRYIN' - YOU AREN'T HURT!** "

 

Tasha, the main manager had heard the noise and had come running.

 

She did the right thing, asked if you were okay.

 

After telling you to take the rest of shift off, she dragged Dylan to her office, you caught him getting berated for what he'd said as they walked off.

 

You head home.

 

You hadn't gotten hit by any of the boxes, but you still ached, and you go to get Tylenol.

 

Opening the cabinet, you briefly think of just taking the bottle with you and just going.

 

_Driving as far as you could, finding some forgotten spot._

 

_Just taking them all, bit by bit.  If it hurts it's okay. It'd be okay._

 

_Just go, don't make Sean deal with you anymore. Just go. Just end it._

 

_He'd be okay. He'd find someone better._

 

The thoughts scare you so bad you slam the cabinet shut, and walk quickly back to your office.

 

You pass by his recording room, hear his laugh, and feel nothing.

 

 

**_-And you can't help but wonder_ **

**_Would anyone come after you_ **

**_If you'd leave-_ **

 

+

 

Writing exercise, was all it was meant to be, just timed and pen moving.

 

Then you look down.

 

 

**To my Sunshine.**

 

**My Sean.**

 

**I can't do this anymore.**

 

**All I can see is all the wrong I've done.**

 

**I need to disappear. You'll be better off without the fuck-up.**

 

**You made me so happy, never forget it.**

 

**I'm so sorry. I love you.**

 

**{F/N L/N}**

 

 

You look at what you'd written in horror. Fuck that, you are not that far gone yet.

 

You crumple the sheet, heedless of when it lands. Out of sight, out of mind.

 

+

 

Filming day, again.

 

You're still doing nothing right.

 

"Almost got it. Hang on." Sean corrects you again, You feel his hands on you, gentle, moving you where he needs you to be

 

You want bed, or to hide in your office with Andrew. He'd not get tired.

 

You are focused on Sean, you don't feel the tears.

 

"Y-Y/N? are- are you ok?" He asks, scared. This has never happened before in front of him.

 

But you don't hear him, his worry, his fear.

 

You just see another failure, and something snaps.

 

 _That's it. You're done. He can see it now-_ **_how pathetic you are._ **

 

And you're running. Office door, slam shut behind, You just need a moment- to-

 

 _To what?_ He **_saw._**

 

_Failure. Fuck up. Useless waste._

 

 _Worthless._ **_Worthless. WORTHLESS!_ **

 

You don't realize you've pulled up your sleeves, that you've settled, sitting in the same corner, _that you're breaking a promise_ , until the door bursts open.

 

_"Y/N? Please, don't!"_

 

You don't drop your arms, just fold them, and slide a hand on each side, holding the upper parts _._

 

He goes to his knees in front of you. Places his hands on your knees, looks at the eyes that want to hide from him.

 

"Talk to me, please."

 

And it spills like a flood.

 

Work, how you're always tired, Last night, the pills, the thoughts. How you've been failing him for awhile now ** _._**

 

 

**_-And the failures you see_ **

**_Don't seem failures to me here at all-_ **

 

 

 

"Why don't you hate me yet? **_I hate me_**."

 

 

 

 

**_-So a pain grows inside_ **

**_And a fear comes alive_ **

**_Like you'll never be free-_ **

 

The rest of your words are lost to sobbing, and he grabs you and pulls you into his lap, wrapping arms around you

 

You sit there, cradled in Sean's lap, and you cry, harder than you have in a long time.

 

It's ugly, there's parts where you can't quite breathe it hurts so much.

 

But Sean just holds you.

 

Sean rocks you, plays with your hair, all the things he knows that you like.

 

Never says "stop crying".

 

 Just stays.

 

When there is nothing left but the hitching sobs of after:

 

 _“Sorry_ ,” You were able to gasp out, throat scratching painfully with the effort.

 

“Shh, it’s alright,” Sean whispered, so gentle, so soothing.

 

“I’m here, you’re going to be okay, Y/N”

 

“I don’t deserve you.” You gasped, eyes shut, trying to breathe normally

 

“Shh, of course you do, of  _course_  you do,”  His voice was soft with tenderness.

 

 

**_-But there's no pain you feel_ **

**_That I know love can't heal here at all-_ **

 

 

 

 

"You'll call for an appointment in the morning, okay?" He murmurs and waits for you to anwser

 

 

"Will you sit with me when I call? And go with?"

 

 

"Of course. Whatever you need, Sweetheart."

 

 

He puts you back on the floor for a second, you're confused and a little hurt, until he stands and scoops you back into his arms.

 

"I'm not leaving you out of arms reach for awhile, Y/N. But, this is where you've been hiding your hurt, and I don't want to stay here."

 

"Did you want Andrew with us?"

 

"No. I've got you. You're better."

 

Made him smile, a little wobbly, but real.

 

He carries you to the bed you share.

 

"Ok, new plan. I need to get a few things. Stay here."

 

You grab one of his pillows, and nestle into it, catching his scent.

 

It's a little better, right now.

 

Sean appears, arms full.  He passes you a bottle of water, a pint of cookie dough ice cream and a spoon.

 

He has his own water and spoon.

 

He hands you some Tylenol, too.

 

You cuddle together, pass the ice cream, and watch Guardians of the Galaxy.

 

+

You stir to dim light from the window, and Sean awake.

 

You know Sean does not stay in place unless he's recording, so you know he's not going to stay.

 

"I need more sleep," you rasp, still sore from last night.

 

"Do wha' ya need t'do," you continue, voice already sleep slurred.

 

He takes your hand, kisses your fingers and palm.

 

He slides your phone within reach.

 

"Don't hesitate, text me if you need anything. Even if it's because you miss me."

 

"Mmhn"

 

You can't keep your eyes open.

 

"I love you, Sweetheart."

 

He sees the smile that spread on your face. It's enough.

 

+

 

Sean decides to clean your office as a kindness.

 

He pulls papers out from your desk, uncrumpling them to check he's not tossing anything important.

 

"To my Sunshine…"

 

His eyes widen in horror.

 

He can't stop tracing the words with his eyes, too much there, not enough, though.

 

**Never enough.**

 

Not if they're meant to be Y/N's last on earth.

 

He rubs absently at his chest, trying to ease some of the ache burning through it.

 

She got that far, and he's left her alone.

 

He takes the paper and runs.

 

You are still asleep when he gets back. 

 

He lies back down and grabs you gently

 

He'll let you sleep, but he's not letting you out of his reach until the two of you talk.

 

**_-Oh, I'm begging you, no_ **

**_There's more life left to go_ **

**_Oh, I'm begging you, please_ **

**_Cause I, I don't want you to leave me-_ **

 

 

+

 

You wake to morning light, and Sean cuddling you

 

When you tried to move you found that, no.

 

 You were  ** _not_**  being cuddled. You were being  _protected_.

 

What the hell had happened while you slept?!

 

"Sean? What's going on. I just slept. I'm still here."

 

Sean pulls you closer

 

"Don't leave me."

 

"What? I'm not. What's wrong?"

 

He let you go, and swept up the paper from the floor, dropping it into your lap.

 

You wince at it, and look down at your lap in shame, but Sean's not having any of that, and reaches for you. Cupping your face,  he spreads his fingers so his hands are covering most of it, raising it so that you have no choice but to look at him.

 

"Does it help that I meant to burn that later?" You respond to the look on his face.

 

"I did a exercise, trying to get something creative out, when I wrote that. It was just pen moving, just thought on paper."

 

"I'm- Not _there_. Anymore. Last night helped."

 

"Forgive me if I'm not okay with it," His voice is rough with emotion.

 

"I'm sorry," your voice goes soft with shame and fear.

 

"No, don't. Not for last night, you needed it. **_That_** scared the shit out of me, though."

 

+

 

You call your doctor, Sean beside you, holding your hand the whole time.

 

After, you kiss him.

 

"Thank you. For all of this."

 

Sean wraps his arms around you, and laid back on the couch you were sharing.

 

He tucks your head against his chest, and you feel his voice rumble through you.

 

"That's what we do, lift each other up. You've done that for me a million times. Why wouldn't I do the same?"

 

And you know it's a uphill fight. But you are not alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May have gone a bit overboard, I kept adding to it, ideas that i had written earlier, fit this so well. So it's Lengthy. But it got it's claws in, and derailed the one-shot i'd planned.  
> I hope BibliophileTimelady likes it.  
> Enjoy! ^_^


	3. Don't cry, Sweetheart! {Let me take care of you.}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After difficult filming, Mark takes care of you.  
> featuring: massage, bath bombs, glitter, tickling, raspberries, pet names and lots of fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, none of this is based in reality. It may be based on real people, but this is just a story. It's just stuff pulled from my head, that i think others might like.

You knew it was a bad idea from the time Mark asked.

 

But, wearing the camera rig was important, you were playing the same Pov character as a Date with Markiplier.

 

You liked the idea, until you read the script.

 

There was a point where, as Mark was playing Dark, Dark was going to get up close and angry and loud.

 

Mark knew you had issues with yelling.

 

But he'd planned in advance.

 

The two of you were going to film alone, and when you said stop it would.

 

Besides it wasn't like it was Mark yelling at you. It was all in character as Dark. Dark was just a story.

 

"Maybe, you're right," Mark conceded the night you were packing to go.

 

He's been thinking about it, and doubting.

 

He can remember the last time you'd reacted to yelling, the table next to you at a dinner out had a huge group. The males in it were drunk, and had gotten loud.

 

He remembers how you flinched and practically buried yourself into him at one point

 

"Maybe you shouldn't do the scene.

 

I just don't want you getting hurt because you think you need to do something, prove yourself

 

I-"

 

"Says the man who made the ghost pepper promise," you interrupt with a pursed-lip scowl

 

Mark winces.

 

"I'm going to be fine. I'm doing this. About time I took one for the team, anyways."

 

 

+Mark's Pov+

 

I should have known better.

 

I tried.  After every take,  I checked. Dropped character, reassured Y/N she was doing fine.

 

There's a part where Dark grabs the POV character. After the third time, she was trembling.

 

That's when _I_ needed it to be done.

 

A dozen, half a dozen- don't know, lost count-  takes later. There are tears flowing unchecked.

 

"Are we done yet? Can we be done?" _Jesus, her voice is dead._

 

"Yeah, I think we're done here."

 

She takes the rig off, puts everything safe and right, so we don't have to do this again.

 

Then, she bolts.

 

I'm stunned for a second, then I'm after her.

 

I see her in the twilight, on the edge of the concrete.

 

She bends over and vomits into the grass.

 

I don't know if it's nerves or fear or anxiaty, but I know Y/N's got a dodgy tummy at times, so…

 

I'm stepping over to her, when her knees give out.

 

In the dim, she's facing the grass, a hand over her mouth, tears flowing silently, every so often there's an abortive heave.

 

I step behind her. She turns, grabs the leg of my suit, and just hangs on for a moment.

 

Then, she's up, scrubbing the tears, snot, and bile off her face with her sleeve.

 

I reach for her. I don't know if she'll make it all the way back to our room.

 

She's hesitant.

 

"I don't give a fuck about the suit, Y/N. I need to get you inside."

 

I gently tug her wrists near my neck, and it sparks her, she hangs on, and wraps her legs around my waist.

 

"Good girl."

 

I step through the door, and turn us toward the hallway that leads to our bedroom. The room she'd picked out when I'd showed her the place we were renting to film in.

 

"That room is ours," she'd said, resting her head on my shoulder.

 

She has dammed good taste.

 

I carry her in, and place her on the four poster bed big enough to hold at least four if not five pepole,

and go to wash the makeup off and take off the suit.

 

When I get back, she's kicked off her jeans and is laying on her back with an arm on her belly, and her eyes closed.

 

I grab a small can of coke from the small fridge under the TV.

 

Fame has it's perks sometimes- the owner of this place has stocked this place with all sorts of things to make us comfortable.

 

And I'm sure Y/N needs something to settle her stomach. I know what it looks like on her.

 

I set on the bed and reach for her.

 

+Y/N's Pov+

 

I take the can of soda and fit myself against Mark like a puzzle piece.

 

Taking off that dammed suit helped, the makeup's gone.

 

As his arms wrap around me, I feel like I've got **_MY_** Mark back.

 

The coke helps settle my stomach.  It still gnaws with hurt a little.

 

My chest is another thing. Since Mark walked out with that suit and the make-up, since he slipped into that demeanor….

 

There's been a balloon in my chest filled with everything wrong about the last few hours. It's moved my heart and lungs out of place. It aches, but it's not going anywhere.

 

Maybe I can sleep it off….

 

I feel Mark cup my face.

 

"Don't fall asleep, yet. I have plans."

 

He moves away from me and steps into the ensuite

 

"Clothes off, Baby," he calls out.

 

I comply.

 

That particular tone in his voice? Means everything good.

 

I need that to pull myself together.

 

He comes out with towels and a bottle in his other hand. He's just in a pair of baby blue boxers and nothing else.

 

 

My eyes take him in, he's deadly gorgeous, my Love is.

 

 

He spreads out a towel, then motions me over to lie on it.

 

I know part of his plan, and I'm all for it.  He straddles me, enabling his reach to my upper body. I hear the pop of a cap and smell almonds and honey.

 

Then two hands land gently on my uppermost back, near my neck. The oil on them is warm this time. He tends to either forget to warm the oil or maybe he likes the fact that I shudder at the cold, I have no clue.

 

As his hands slide down the length of my shoulders and down my arms, I relize what's going on.

 

This isn't foreplay. That feels completely different, this is something Mark does from time to time. It's skin to skin, comfort, and connection. It's intimate, yes, but with no end goal.

 

It's just for me, has to be, because I don't know what he could get, out of this.

 

I did ask once.

 

"Sometimes, I- I need that connection. To know that you're here. That we're together. I love that you need me, Y/N. Taking care of you is my favorite thing."

 

I love it too, because it means he sees me. Sometimes I swear he's the only who does.

 

It means he sees me when I'm hurting, and he wants to make me  _happy,_ and that?

 

_That's everything._

 

Mark continues his work, getting up at the halfway point, guiding his hands all the way to the tips of my toes, massaging gently until I'm a lump of Y/N-dough.

 

I hear him step away.  Then the roar of the bathtub tap. He comes back and presses a kiss to my neck.

 

"Now, I know you have bath stuff. I know you always bring something with you when we travel.

 

Where is it?"

 

"It's in my suitcase, the little bag with the soot sprites. Are- are we going to share?"

 

_Because bath bombs are my thing, mostly, and I don't want one if he doesn't-_

 

"Yes. What do you want, I had no idea you packed options."

 

"Oh, if we're sharing, there can be only one."

 

I get off the bed then, because if we are going to use this one, I want to see his reaction.

 

I step onto tile and shudder slightly, everything's been warm until that.

 

"I didn't mean for you to join me,"  he says upon seeing me.

 

I can feel my face change, his eyes widen in slight panic.

 

"No, shit. That came out wrong. I just- had a plan in my head, you know how I am.

 

 I always want you with me, Sweetheart."

 

I grab the bag off the counter, and pull out a blue bath bomb with pink and yellow swirls. It looks like a planet in my hand.

 

I pull off the wrapper and toss it into the filling tub. As it absorbs water, foam spills from it, also streaks of color.

 

As I swish the water, he gets it.

 

"Holy shit, it's a space bath."

 

I turn to face him and give him a happy little nod.

 

It's full enough, so I turn off the taps and wait for him to get his boxers off.

 

He gets in first, then helps me in with careful hands.

 

I settle between his legs, and lean against his chest.

 

We just relax, just be in the warmth of the water.

 

Every so often he trickles handfuls of water down my back and shoulders from his cupped palms.

 

It's soothing, as everything in this room has been. We've made good memories here, and we have the rest of the week to make more.

 

The water's cooling as Mark stands and then helps me out.

 

He hands me a towel and takes one for him.

 

We head out of the ensuite, Mark goes to grab what he'll be sleeping in, I sit on the bed for a moment.

 

The towel gets tossed away, and I get to take mark au natural. Stunning.

 

Shining.

 

Oh. Dear. _I forgot how much the glitter sticks._

 

Both my hands fly to my mouth to muffle the giggles I can't control.

 

Mark's…. Glitterfied  No, that's not even a word.

 

I catch his eyes. He's… worried?

 

Oh. My laughing's silent, because I was trying to hide it, and now he's worried I'm crying because all he can see is shaking.

 

_He's gilded._

 

I pull my hands away and laugh outright.

 

"You. You're. You're gilded, Mark!"

 

That's what comes out, that makes sense inbetween my laughter.

 

That balloon? From before? It popped.

 

Everything's good.

 

He tosses me my sleep clothes, it looks like it's just boxers for him tonight.

 

I drop my towel, too, not giving a fuck.

 

Once I'm dressed, Mark gives me a look, then proceeds to tackle me onto the bed.

 

That look screams trouble, what is he…?

 

His hand catches my wrists and he lowers his head, brushing my shirt aside.

 

_NO._

 

Raspberries! _Friggin' raspberries!_

 

Six of them, two at a time on my tummy, until I'm breathless with laughter.

 

He lets go, and I start to curl up like a roly-poly bug.

 

It exposes my back. Bad idea on my part, because I've got a weak spot on my lower back, and Mark takes advantage.

 

He lightly scratches. It's all he has to do. I'm electrified.

 

It tips over, I can't take it- I call out:

 

" _St-_ ** _AHH_** _-oop!_

 

 

I C- _aaa-_ n't!

 

 

  ** _Pl-eee-se!"_**

 

My eyes burn for a moment, and he jerks away.

 

" _Shit._ **Fuck**. Sorry, baby."

 

His hands go back, firm, but gentle. Stroke my sides, soft little circles on my tummy.

 

"I'm… Sensitive, tonight," I say when I'm calmer.  "I'm sorry you have to deal with-"

 

Mark's hands cup my face.  A kiss to my forehead, both my cheeks, the softest one lingering on my lips.

 

"It's alright, Y/N. Whatever you are is what I want, always."

 

He rolls over and gets comfortable.

 

I go with what I want, and climb on top of him.

 

"Is. Is this okay?" I ask, still hestitant.

 

"Always, Y/N," he repeats as I snuggle into his warmth.

 

"There's my Sweetheart, that's it."

 

I'm drifting peacefully, as his arms go around me.


	4. I'll Keep You Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This ones inspired by giggleplier, who left this comment.  
> Hey, I really like your work and (this is probably gonna be really all over the place bc I am a disaster of a person but) I was wondering if you could write one where like reader/Mark are seriously dating and she’s been struggling with depression/anxiety for a long time and TRIGGER WARNING self-harm (cutting, burning) but he’s never actually seen any scars or anything but then he does and is really comforting/helpful about it. Sorry if this is garbage and undoable just thought I’d ask. I really like your writing anyway!!  
> I tried. Requests always run away with me. I hope you enjoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Is Dean: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qpHcCKXg-zs  
> This chapter is all from your POV  
> Thanks to giggleplier for the comment.
> 
> Please Enjoy! ^_^
> 
> as ever, none of this is based in reality. It may be based on real people, but this is just a story. It's just stuff pulled from my head, that i think others might like.

I remember how it started. I was, thirteen, maybe fourteen? School was always rough for me, I had problems with all of it. I was bullied, because I was different.

 

I picked books, writing, and drawing because not once in my life had they let me down. Everything else seemed to.

 

My mother was barely able to hold down a job, My sperm donor- because that's all he ever was, never bothered with me

 

I had issues with math, and no matter how mom tried, she couldn't get through. Some of it just would not stick. I wasn't what she thought I would be, anyways -what was one more thing?

 

I was never pretty. Not like the other girls. Glasses, never any brand new clothing, or the wrong kind if I tried.

 

I stole a cigarette. I wanted to see if they'd do for me whatever they did for her.

 

I dropped it in the ensuing coughing fit, and it landed on my leg.

 

There was a brilliant pain, and everything seemed, muted, somehow.

 

I relit it, and pressed it to another part of my leg. The voices stopped.

 

I switched to matches, because there were always matches in our junk drawer.

 

The cutting started after I moved out. Because I had no matches, and the voices wouldn't stop

 

**_Ugly, weirdo, freak, stupid, fuck up, worthless, unlovable._ **

 

I broke a dish, and it went from there. Now I use an exacto knife

 

It went too far once, when I was in my early twenties. I got some help then, and stopped for a while.

 

My roommate found me, after I'd lost a lot of blood. Never looked at me the same.

 

The same was true of the last guy I'd been brave enough to try dating.

 

Once he'd seen the scars he'd called me fucked up, crazy, a freak. And left. I wasn't worth it.

 

+

 

I met Mark through of all things, my love of animals. See, I volunteer at an animal shelter, and on Saturdays we take the dogs to a dog park for socialization. We set up a table, too. Hand out flyers.

 

But my job that day was handling two sweethearts I'd gotten to name myself. A Rottie named Banner

 

{think, instead of Bruce, because not Batman, that's why Banner.}

 

And a shiba inu I'd named Dean.

 

It started after I'd thrown Dean's ball, and it had landed near Chica.

 

I'd had to interfere, _Dean does not share._

 

Nothing bad happened, poor Chica got Shiba screamed at, but I got to my problem child before he could do anything more than be a loudmouth.

 

"Sorry about that," I'd said apologetically to Mark after I'd gotten Dean under control.

 

"This one forgot his manners."

 

"Or, maybe-"

 

I added as I leaned down to pet Chica's head after she'd rubbed up against me, not caring about Dean in the slightest.

 

"-He lost his head around this pretty girl, and went cave-dog.  Either way I apologize. He certainly won't."

 

"No harm done," Mark had said, and then we were interrupted again.

 

See, Banner knows why we come here. He'd been doing the rounds happily. Now it was time for him to come back and make sure he doesn't get forgotten.

 

He does this by leaning into you until you pet him. He's almost knocked me down a few times, he's a big guy.

 

"Banner, buddy. I know you're there, didn't forget."

 

I pet his head, and it gets worse before it gets better.  I really don't need to be knocked down in front of Mark.

 

"Ok, treat time."

 

Because it was a way I could get them to stay in one place for a minute.

 

"Chica can have some, too. I bake them at home, for the dogs at the shelter."

 

_'God, this is stupid. Why would he care? You talk too damn much.'_

 

"…They deserve something good, too," I finish. It sounds lame to my ears

 

I lead the boys to the bench where my bag is, and grab a baggie of treats.

 

"Banner, Baby, sit for me?"

 

He does.

 

"Good boy! Here's your favorite, Pumpkin-blueberry!"

 

He slurps it from my hand.

 

I hold out another bagful to Mark.

 

Banner puts his head in my lap.

 

"Aw, I love you, yes I do."

 

Dean whines.

 

"You're not getting any, you weren't a gentleman."

 

Mark laughs at that, and I look up in suprize. I expected, after the treats, he'd be done with us. because I'd repaid Dean's stupidity.

 

Dean, the drama king, jumps up on the bench after Banner goes back out to play.

 

He sticks his head in my lap, and licks my fingers.

 

"Okay, okay that was a sorry." I give him a treat, too.

 

Mark surprises me again by asking for my number.

 

I'm braver with the boys than I am alone, so I say yes and we trade numbers.

 

+

 

I don't actually expect him to contact me.

 

But he does.

 

Slowly, but surely, We're. Something?

 

Sometimes I think so.

 

One morning, everything that can go wrong, does.

 

I'm sitting at my desk, meant to be doing work. All I want is my matches.

 

Just a little burn, make the ache of failing go away…

 

My phone chimes.

 

**Good afternoon, Mira -Mark.**

 

**How are things?-Mark.**

 

**Today is not that great.** **I'm sure you don't want to hear me complain.** **Shouldn't you be recording?- Mira**

 

_I'm sure that's what should be happening at this time of day._

 

It takes him a bit to answer,

 

My mind spits:

 

_'You’re not worth his effort or attention, there are so much more important things he could do-'_

 

***Chime***

 

_Some things_ **_are_ ** _more important. Priorities, Mira.-Mark_

 

My head feels fuzzy as I try to process that. Mark thinks talking to  _me_ is important?

 

Then shock of all shocks, my phone rings, his name lighting up the screen.

 

"I'm a priority?"

 

That's the first thing that flies out of my fool mouth when I anwser.

 

_"Yeah."_

 

He means it, too.

 

Before it can get awkward, he continues.

 

"So, bad day, huh? Tell Markimoo all about it."

 

He's so earnest and sweet that I do.

 

I don't do this. With pepole. Sometimes I vent with the dogs in the shelter, they don't judge.

 

He listens. Doesn't judge. Then he changes the subject.

 

"Next Saturday night. You. Me. Chica. A few **_surprises_**. You interested?"

 

I'd be at the shelter all day, adoption drive. But it'd be a good night.

 

"Yeah. Yeah. That. That sounds great."

 

_'Be more awkward, geez.'_

 

 _"_ Perfect! _"_

 

You can _hear_ the smile. Just because I said yes.

 

On Saturday, I'm tired but happy as I greet him.

 

"Banner got adopted today. The family's picking him up on Tuesday. I knew they were it for him, the oldest boy picked up on the name right away, and the littlest boy couldn't stop patting him."

 

"That's wonderful. Oh, but you'll miss him, though. You've been in charge of him for a few months, haven't you?"

 

He gets to the heart of things _so_ easy.  He understands that I love those dogs while I have them like they are my own.

 

 He doesn't even complain when I sit in the back with Chica. I'm still rapt, focused on him, I just have a Chica head in my lap.

 

We drive, and drive. We hit darkness and desert.

 

He parks and we get out. My hoodie isn't out of place here, it's a little cold.

 

He spreads out a blanket, and grabs a cooler from the back.

 

Sandwiches, pasta salad, fruit. Cookies, lemonade. A midnight picnic. Then laying back, sholder to shoulder, and watching the sky.

+

 

My journal about that night.

 

**I remember being fifteen, and going outside and wanting to sleep and not wake up, for the stars to be the last thing I saw.**

 

**It's not a good memory.**

 

**….Mark gave me back the stars last night. That's the memory I'll keep.**

 

**He said he loves me. I want to belive it's true.**

 

The next entry isn't so pleasant:

 

**I don't deserve him. Mark's so pure. Starlight, white feathers, good. good. good.**

 

**I'm not.  I'm cloudy skies. Smoke. Blood, mud, muck. I'll stain him, I'll ruin him.**

 

**Someday he'll see it, and he'll be gone like everyone else.**

 

I text him.

 

He knows about my depression, about my meds because I take them with food, and hadn't taken them in the morning one day, because I'd had no food in the house, and a lunch date planned with him.

 

**I can't go out. Not tonight. - Mira**

 

_'Promises mean nothing to you, don't they?'_

 

***chime***

 

**Then I'll come to you.-Mark**

 

**You don't have tto- Mira.**

 

My fingers shake as I type. He shouldn't have to have to cater to me.

 

**I'm coming. No getting out of it!-Mark.**

 

***chime***

 

**Pizza okay?-Mark.**

 

**…Yes-Mira**

 

 I manage to fix my hair at least. I don't manage to change out of the PJ pants and hoodie.

 

There's a knock. I lost time again.

 

I open my door to Mark with a pizza box and a bag on his arm.

 

He goes to my kitchen- not dirty, I've not had the energy to really cook, so nothing got dirty.

 

I'm lucky if I want to eat, even.

 

My stomach reminds me, with a groan and a sharp cramp, that it exists at the smell of the pizza.

 

Mark's still in the kitchen, he doesn't hear.

 

I wait.

 

He comes back with a black cherry sparkling water for me, and a diet coke for himself. I stocked those for him. He has plates and napkins.

 

"You pick," he says, handing me the remote.

 

I pick out a childhood favorite, and I keep with the dog theme that is us: 101 Dalmatians,  the animated version. 

 

I probably eat too much pizza, and go overboard when he pulls out a carton of Neapolitan ice cream.

 

But I feel something for once, even it it's just full.

 

I put on All Dogs Go To Heaven, another childhood staple for me. I don't think Mark's seen it, Because he keeps declaring:

 

"This is a kids film!?"

 

Somehow I end up with my head in his lap, he plays with my hair, and I'm watching him more than the movie.

 

He shifts, near the end.

 

' _Greedy. Clingy._ ' flits through my head.

 

 I jump away like I got electrocuted.

 

" _No_ , Sweetheart, come back, please, I just needed to move."

 

I broke the spell, though. I feel every breath, and my heart pounding.

 

He leaves and takes all the good with him.

 

Flame on skin, _Burn._ **Burn** _._ ** _Burn_**. Silence in my head. I paid for it.

 

I'll do better next time.

 

+

 

I ruin it. I'm not careful enough. He comes to pick me up, and brings Chica

 

 I'm not ready.  I don't shut the door right, I don't see her nose her way in. But I hear him open the door all the way before I've put on a long-sleeved shirt.

 

Several things happen at once. I am sterner with Chica then I ever have been.

 

" _Go!_ **Out!** ** _NOW!_** "

 

 She goes.

 

 

 

 I grab the door and slam it shut in Mark's face, not even looking to see the anger or disgust that must be there.

 

 Chica starts barking.

 

 

 My chest hurts, my stomach, too. I can feel every beat of my heart. My legs give, and I smack into the tub. I feel so sick, and cold.

 

_'He saw._ **_He saw!_ ** _He'll leave'._

 

 

_My arms. My stomach. The scars and burns and all of me-!_

 

 

**_Fuck-up. Freakshow. Unlovable._ **

 

 

_'I don't want him to. Don't want him gone_

 

_No. no-no-no._

 

_I don't want him to go!'_

 

All that's coming out of me is broken noise, and I can't. I can't.

 

The door flies open again.

 

I scramble away, crash against the tub again. I have nowhere to go.

 

Mark's in front of me.

 

_'Why hasn't he left?'_

 

He reaches for me, for my face.

 

I can see his brown eyes, shiny with tears that haven't fallen yet.

 

Why is he sad? He should be sneering, disgusted. He's seen me.

 

"Mira, Please, Sweetheart, please talk to me. Please, Baby."

 

I can see his lips moving, watch his chest slowly rise and fall, feel his breath on my face.

 

 

"Okay. Okay. Need to try something else."

 

 

 

He brings his forehead to meet mine.

 

 

"Can you breathe with me, Baby?"

 

 

_"In. 1-2-3-4._

 

_Out. 1-2-3-4."_

 

 

I catch what he's doing and follow along

 

"That’s it, Baby, just breathe with me. I'm right here with you-

 

 You can do this. There you are."

 

"Why. Why haven't. Why haven't you left, yet?" I stammer brokenly.

 

 

"Why would I?

 

 

"Look a- at  me!"

 

"I don't see anything besides the woman I adore looking utterly terrified."

 

 

He really looks this time. Mark sweeps his eyes across my upper half.

 

His eyes soften, get even sadder somehow, and the tears that have been there finally fall.

 

 

"I wish you had told me sooner. I would have helped you, Sweetheart."

 

"You, still care? Still. Still love me?"

 

" _Jesus-!_

 

 -Baby, of course. Nothing changes that."

 

I can reach for him now and I do, I place my hand on his day old stubble. It's softer than I remember.

 

Mark kisses my palm with rose petal lips and pulls me as close as he can.

 

"I know you need more proof than tonight, but please try to belive me.

 

Come to me next time. If you can do it before you hurt yourself, all the better. But if you slip, I'll be there too."

 

" _I love you_ , Mira. I won't ever stop being what you need. I'm here, I gotcha. You're safe now, I'll keep you safe."

 

+

 

It's less that a week. I need it. Need it.

 

 _I need him._ I promised I'd try.

 

So I call.

 

"It's okay, baby. Stay with me, okay? I'm so proud of you for calling."

 

I can hear him moving, hear him coming to get me.

 

He chatters about things, keeping me occupied.

 

"I'm here, Sweetheart. I need you to let me in."

 

He pulls me into his arms as soon as sees me.

 

"I want to try something. Do you have any washable markers?"

 

He grabs red from the box, and pulls me with him to my bathroom.

 

He holds my left arm in one of his perfect hands.

 

He scrawls. He does the other arm, Moves onto my tummy, where the worst of the burns are.

 

I'm mesmerized by red on skin.  What he's writing doesn't register.

 

"Okay."

 

He holds the shirt up, and I see what he wrote.

 

**LOVED.**

 

**ENOUGH.**

 

**WANTED.**

 

**WORTHY.**

 

I fall apart. Again.

 

He catches me.

 

"It's alright. I got you."

 

"I'm. I'm not. I'm not." My voice breaks.

 

I squeeze my eyes shut.

 

 Mark wraps his arms around me and presses his face to mine.

 

"Open your eyes. Open those beautiful eyes for me, Mira. C’mon baby, that’s it, you’re okay. You’re

okay."

 

I do, but shake my head.

 

"You. You. You can't mean it."

 

"Every. Word. I'll repeat it forever, until my heart stops. I love you. _I choose you_ , scars and all." 

 

He scoops me up bridal style.

 

"I'm getting you someplace comfortable. We're just going to relax, baby, nothing more or less."

 

The two of us face each other, He's playing with my hair again. I can't keep my eyes open, the sweet smile on his face the last thing I see.

 

+

 

It's the first date like thing we have tried since he found out.

 

I said I'd try.

 

But there are just too many pepole. Mark feels me freeze beside him

 

"I can't. I can't. I'm so sorry,"  I whimper.

 

That's when I take off.

 

He and Chica find me, of course. He never gives up on me.

 

 I'm in the sand of the beach we planned to walk.

 

Chica gets there first, he lets her go as he sees me. She loves on me like I've been gone forever,  even though I only ran like twenty minutes ago, I think.

 

Then he's there with me.

 

He effectively blocks out the rest of the world until all I can see is tan skin and eyes that are the color of cinnamon in this light.

 

He sinks to my level and reaches for me. Kisses my fingers like they are precious.

 

_I_ **_am_ ** _precious to him._

 

“It's you, and it's me and no-one else. They don't care, Mira.  I’m here, and I’m going to make sure you’re alright.”

 

"You promise?” I want to belive him, I really do.

 

“I absolutely promise.”

 

Mark gives me, of all things, an eskimo kiss. It's unexpected, and sweet, and utterly him.  He rests his forehead against mine.

 

“We’re in this together.”


	5. Authors note and requests.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athours note and reminder.

If You checked the tags, they have changed. 

Chase and Dr. Schneeplestein are the two egos I feel most comfortable writing for on Jack's Ego list. I can try for the others, just ask. 

I can also try writing Darkiplier. He might be rough, but he's not quite canon, if i write him.

I'll also try Wilford.

I also need to put out that the Mark and Jack content does not have to be am S/O!

I'm willing to write Child!Reader or Teen!Reader in a father role, also Sibling!reader, as well I'm working on a few new things this way. 

My side tumblr for all things Jack and Mark is imagnationovereality.tumblr.com if you want to contact me there.

I'm waiting, and writing, as ever.


	6. All Too Much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's way too much, all of it.   
> Lucky you, you have Sean, who always helps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a request from PianoPrincess, who asked for.
> 
> Could you possibly write something with Jack helping the reader thru a panic attack or anxiety attack? I get those a lot and watching Jack always helps me.

It's been hard lately. You have to fight to make your ideas do what you want them to do, to get the ideas into words, and the lines on the paper to form the right scene.

 

Sleep isn't your friend, But unlike Sean, you can't get by on little sleep.

 

And it'd be okay, if you had time to take care of yourself but you don't.

 

There's a deadline.

 

You've been in your office all day, haven't even seen Sean, who is currently recording.

 

Things are finally getting some where when your computer goes black.

 

You try every trick you know, and ** _it won't come back on._**

 

"No! Nooo! Please, **Fucking** \- _god_ - ** _why?_** Don't. _Don't._ **DOON'T!"**

 

You leap up from your chair, because your next instinct is to smash everything off your desk, and that won't help a thing.

 

You have to get away, your breathing's already wrong, too damn fast. But you have to get out of here- out of this moment.

 

You can feel your heart pounding. The world is spinning. You know you have to _get away._

_+_

Sean's in the middle of recording, setting up another game, in fact, when he hears a thump in the hall.

 

His instincts scream at him to go check on you. He sees more that you think he does, knows you're having a rough time. He also knows that too much pressure on you sometimes ends badly.

 

Finding you on the floor doesn't help his heart. But the two of you have been through this before, he knows what to do.

 

The first thing he does is get on the floor with you. He's grateful that this is happening at home, not that he'd give a fuck where it happened, he'd help you.

 

He gently pulls you to him. You need something solid, when this happens, and he doesn't mind being that something.

 

"Sean?"

 

You're always confused after. This has all happened before, and he's even had to catch you midfall. It scares him every time

 

Your breathing picks up again. Your chest burns, your stomach feels like it's being stabbed, and you feel too warm and terribly sick.

 

 

"Shh, Y/N. I'm right here. I'm not leaving.

 

Everything's okay. You’re okay. Just breathe with me."

 

He catches a hand that is clammy with sweat, tangles your fingers in his.

 

"I need you to count with me. To ten, okay? Breathe and count."

 

Your voice is shaky, but you comply.

 

By ten your breathing is calmer.

 

You're kind of in his lap, your legs stretched out. He's got both arms around you now, your head slightly smooshed to his chest.

 

His arms, his embrace, pulled all your broken parts together. Not perfectly,  everything still hurts and will for a while.

 

But it's better.

 

You need to get up so Sean can go back to recording but you just want one more minute to be selfish and be held.

 

You need to be normal, so he doesn't have to look after you.

 

You hate yourself for being this weak, this broken.

 

Sean's always had a 'mentally talking shite' sense when it comes to you.

 

"Whatever you're thinking, _stop._ I'd feel worse if I couldn't help you."

 

He moves an arm, a hand, to stroke through your slightly sweaty hair.

 

"What started this, anyway?"

 

"Computer went dead, and wouldn't turn back on.

 

"I- I have a deadline, and everything was ok, and- then-"

 

"Just too much?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"Well, you need to call your boss, and tell her. You're useally ahead of what ever they need from you, this one time won't hurt."

 

He moves first, to help you up. You go and grab the phone off your desk.

 

You sit at the kitchen table to make the call.

 

As you listen to the other line ring, you feel Sean's arms slip around you from behind.

 

You sigh in contentment. You can do this.

 

"Hello, Cam?

 

I'm not going to be able to make the deadline.

 

…Yeah, computer crapped out on me.

 

You too?

 

Really? That bad?

 

Oh, thank you! Yeah, I'll talk to you on Monday, then."

 

You put the phone down and give a slightly crazed cackle.

 

"The whole office is out of commission. Some sort of mass server failure.

 

I have until Monday- that's when I check in."

 

"Told ya it'd work out, Sean replied.

 

"Now. Robin and Ethan were going to play a game with me. They asked if you'd be our fourth. We'll worry about your computer tomorrow."

 

You smiled. Game sessions with the three of them involved lots of laughter and you needed that today.

 

"I'd love to."

 

You grab a bottle of fruit flavored fizzy water from the fridge.

 

Sean had insisted on building you a gaming set up, when you showed an interest.

 

It was kind of the person he was. You wouldn't trade the time spent streaming with him and your friends for anything, he'd given you a priceless gift.

 

You sat in your chair and grabbed the head phones you'd customized- turning cat ear headphones, with a bit of faux fur, into wolf ears.

 

"Catch."

 

You turned toward him and he tossed you a cherry cereal bar.

 

"I know once you're settled you'll be hungry. We'll be here a while, so…."

 

"Thanks."

 

Sean called Ethan and Robin while you relaxed in your chair.

 

You greeted them happily.

 

Ethan was ecstatic:

 

"Hiya, Wolfie!"

 

The nickname had come about from the headphones, but it stuck as an among friends thing.

 

"I didn't know if you were gonna stream with Jack or not."

 

Robin's greeting was quieter, but still pleased:

 

"Hello, Y/N. Glad you could join us"

 

"Hello, Ethan, Robin. Yeah I didn't know I was going to have the time.

 

 

Made it, though. Always happy to play with you guys."

 

You settled in for a few hours of mayhem.

 

Nothing stops. Ever. But when it's bad, being with those you care about can make it better.

 

Not perfect, nothing is. But better? Yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If You checked the tags, they have changed.
> 
> Chase and Dr. Schneeplestein are the two egos I feel most comfortable writing for on Jack's Ego list. I can try for the others, just ask.
> 
> I can also try writing Darkiplier. He might be rough, but he's not quite canon, if i write him.
> 
> I'll also try Wilford.
> 
> I also need to put out that the Mark and Jack content does not have to be am S/O!
> 
> I'm willing to write Child!Reader or Teen!Reader in a father role, also Sibling!reader, as well I'm working on a few new things this way.
> 
> My side tumblr for all things Jack and Mark is imagnationovereality.tumblr.com if you want to contact me there.
> 
> I'm waiting, and writing, as ever.


	7. We all need a Little help, sometimes. {Dr Schneeplestein + Reader}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is inspired by Mintouo, who requested:
> 
> If you're interested, could you maybe write a platonic Schneep & Reader story? Maybe the Reader comes down w/ an illness and Schneep comes to the rescue. 
> 
> So for you, Papa Wolf!Schneep and a young hospital volunteer he's taken under his wing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is inspired by Mintouo, who requested:
> 
> If you're interested, could you maybe write a platonic Schneep & Reader story? Maybe the Reader comes down w/ an illness and Schneep comes to the rescue. 
> 
> So for you, Papa Wolf!Schneep and a young hospital volunteer he's taken under his wing. 
> 
> Side note: I have come up with too many ideas in this universe, so when i get the other two chunks typed up, this will be pulled for a separate story.
> 
> also, here is the Key for Schneep's German.
> 
> Lieber Gott…= Dear god.
> 
>  
> 
> Schatz= Sweetheart, among other endearments, but I mean Sweetheart in this case.
> 
>  
> 
> kleinstes Mädchen = Smallest girl
> 
>  
> 
> Liebste = Dearest, can also mean favorite, but, yeah I meant Dearest.
> 
>  
> 
> Süss = Sweet.
> 
>  
> 
> Um Gottes Willen!= For God's sake!

 

It was paperwork. Again. This was the monotony of the job, yes he helped pepole, saved lives…

 

But the paperwork. _Lieber Gott…_ he needed a break

 

Speaking of breaks.

 

 Useally Y/N would have poked her head in by now with coffee how he liked it and some treat- baked with love from her, or something truly fancy made by the culinary arts student she shared an apartment with.

 

Honest, he was happy with Y/N's muffins or cookies.

 

He knew the schedule, knew it was one of her days.

 

Ah, well. It woulden't kill him to walk, and get the coffee.

 

He passes by Maggie, the head nurse, and one he's fond of. Part of the reason for this, is she takes no shit from him or anyone else. She lives as a nurse should, **_Do No Harm, Take No Shit._**

 

She looks worried, setting the phone she was using down with a sigh.

 

"Maggie? Is Zhere something wrong?"

 

Y/N isn't answering her phone. She doesn't jut skip work without calling in. she said the last shift she volunteered on that she wasn't feeling her best, but just wanted to go home and sleep it off.

 

The first thought that flits though Henrik, is **_Why did she not tell me?_**

 

"I tried to convince her to get looked at, she wouldn't! I can't make her stay," Maggie states, reading his thoughts.

 

"I should have tried harder, I know-"

 

"But Y/N is stubborn, we both know this!" Henrik interjected.

 

"…Get me her address, and I need you to cover for me."

 

Maggie smiled coyly, seeing his plan.

 

"At once, Doctor!"

 

+

 

Your head pounded. Your stomach ached. Everytime you stood, the world whirled.

 

But the worst was your throat, it felt like barbed wire was wrapped around it. Even swallowing was a nightmare.

 

At least you'd made it to bed after the last bout of vomiting.

 

You heard your phone go off. It was too much effort to reach for. You just wanted to sleep.

 

If you just slept long enough, it would be alright.

 

Faintly at the edge of your mind you heard a knocking.

 

A hand on your sholder makes you jump.

 

"Doctor. Doctor Schneeplestein? How-" you stammered at him.

 

"You must find a better place to hide your spare key zen on top of zhe door frame!"

 

You lay back.

 

"Shit!" you breathe tiredly.

 

_Doesn't explain why he's here, though._

 

"Isn't today a shift day?" you ask, still wobbly.

 

"Maggie vas vorried. Vhich made me worry. Why did you not ask for my help?"

 

"It wasn't that bad. By the time it got bad, I was home. I thought I could handle it…"

 

Henrik placed the bag he was holding at his side onto the bed.

 

It was full of all he needed to preform a physical, and a complete first aid kit. He carried with him all the time. It had been needed amongst friends quite a few times.

 

He pulled a temporal thermometer out first, and slid it across your forehead.

 

You winced. At his look you replied with:

 

"Head hurts. Sorry."

 

"Do not apologize. 101.3."

 

You looked down, you had not relized it was that bad.

 

"Vhat else hurts?"

 

"My stomach. I've vomited a few times. I've been dizzy. The worst is my throat."

 

The next thing he checks is your throat with a penlight.

 

"Your Throat iz very inflamed. Zere is pus, also"

 

He checks your lymph node with careful hands on your neck.

 

Checks your breathing, blood pressure, heartbeat,

 

"Have you kept anything down?"

 

"Not much."

 

"Come vith me, ve are going back to ze ER. Zere is no one here to look after you, so I'll keep _my_ eye on you.

 

**+Schneeplestein's Pov+**

 

We were fine, until a few feet from the ER entrance.

 

Y/N froze beside me, then crumpled.

 

Lucky I was close enough to catch her.

 

"I have you, Y/N!"

 

I went down with her, so she wouldn't be subjected to much trauma.

 

I could feel the fever coming off of her, she trembled in my arms.

 

Making a quick decision, I placed an arm under her legs and lifted her up, and carried her the rest of the way to the doors.

 

Maggie met us.

 

"Clear room's this way. What happened, Dr. Schneeplestein?"

 

"It looks like she has a severe case of strep throat"

 

Y/N woke as I placed her on the bed.

 

" _Wuu.._ "

 

"Wha- what happened?"

 

I finished stating the vitals that I took at Y/N's place.

 

"You passed out for a moment, but don't worry, Schatz-"

 

 _Well, that came out of- it was instinct! Just like I'd comfort my girls. My oldest, Celeste and my kleinstes Mädchen_ , _Luna. What's one more?_

 

"-we have you now!"

 

Vitals were taken again, Y/N's throat was swabbed, and an IV was started.

 

+

 

The ER got busy for awhile, just because someone I care for is sick, the rest of the world does not stop.

 

I was able to check on Y/N from time to time, but it didn't get quiet again until after she was admitted. I know one of the nurses on the floor that Y/N was being sent to, and knew she'd be looked after.

 

Still, I couldn't help it, and in the wee hours of the morning I headed up to her room. I slipped into her room. It was dark, Y/N was curled on her side, clutching a pillow. 

 

It would be a- half hour, perhaps? until the nurses made their rounds to check vitals. April would kick me out then, but i had a bit of time. 

 

I settled into a chair that I pulled to her bedside.  I… just needed to be here, Y/N has no one else.  

 

 

 

She started to stir in her sleep.  I heard her breathing pick up, and I stood from my chair. Nightmare, it seemed.

 

"Y/N, Liebste, It's alright-"

 

 

Her eyes flew open, but they stayed unseeing.

 

"Please. Please don't. Don't H-H-"

 

I reached for her, needing to stop that sentence.

 

 

_Hit. Hurt. Harm._

 

 

Whatever the missing word was- it was unacceptable that she should be that afraid. 

 

Besides, the way she was moving, she could fall out of bed, the last thing she needed.

 

She was very warm, fever's up, again.

 

As I touched her sholder, she froze.

 

More alert, she looked at me in puzzlement

 

"Doctor? What are-

 

Y/N halted mid sentence.

 

"Oh. _Oohh…."_

 

She shuddered.

 

"..I feel like I’m going to throw up…"

 

Moving as quickly as I could, I flipped on the light, grabbed the basin on her bedside tray and placed it in her lap.

 

 I hit her call light. The antibiotics Y/N was getting were harsh on the system.  A little antiemetic would fix it. But for now-

 

There was a sob of pain that turned into a gag, then the sound of emesis hitting the bottom of the basin.

 

Sharp sounds of distress came from her. Vomiting on an already inflamed throat… bound to be- unpleasant, at the very least.

 

Grabbing several tissues from the box, I pressed them into one of Y/N's hands. I stepped to the side of the bed. 

 

_Damn the rules!_

 

I placed a hand between her sholder blades, and rubbed back and forth.

 

" _Shh. Easy_ , _Schatz_. Shh, it was just a bad dream. Just a dream, okay? None of it was real.

 

The sickness? It vill end. April's coming, she vill help."

 

The door opened, and April stepped in, a tablet in her arms.

 

She only looked at me once, nonplused.

 

I took my hand away from Y/N's back.

 

"Y/N needs-"

 

But April was already moving, grabbing the basin, and passing Y/N one of the throw-away sick bags the ER used.

 

"Do you still feel nauseated?" She asked Y/N.  All the poor girl could do was nod.

 

"Ok. Zofran. I'm thinking an ice collar, too. It'll take me a minute. I'll be back."

 

Y/N wiped tears away with the tissue I'd given her. She looked like she wanted to die of shame.

 

 

 _That ends now_.

 

 

I went back to the chair at her bedside, and used my feet to push myself as close as I could get to her.

 

"Look at me, _Süss_."

 

 

I took her IV-free hand.

 

 

"You have nothing to be ashamed of. You are _very_ sick. You are here to be cared for, zere maybe a few messes, but, _Um Gottes Willen, Y/N!_  It iz all part of recovering.

 

Y/N opened her mouth.

 

" _Don't speak!_ I'm here, and _you will be alright_."

 

She grabbed the remote, deciding not to try to sleep for a time.

 

There is a channel the hospital runs that shows Disney and Marvel movies and other family friendly fare 24/7, and she turned the tv to this.

 

_She's sick. I will not judge. She's only 19, after all._

 

April comes back with a vial, syringe, and a ice collar tucked into her arm,

 

Quickly she set up the syringe and injected into Y/N's IV.

 

"This will feel cold, but it will help."

 

Y/N made a soft sound as April settled the ice pack to her throat.

 

"When I come back later, I'll bring a few treats to pick from for you, okay?"

 

+

 

She's dozing lightly when April comes in next. Blood pressure, temperature, pulse ox, The same.

 

It will get better, the meds need the chance to work.

 

April holds out a vanilla ice cream cup and  a chocolate pudding cup.

 

Y/N points to the ice cream.

 

I look to the pudding longingly, thinking of Y/N's treats, and how I'll miss them these next few days.

 

April scoffs.

 

"Should I put the good doctor out of his misery, Y/N?"

 

Y/N nods.

 

"She likes you. Play nice with the sickie, Doc."

 

April hands me the pudding and another plastic spoon.

 

_Why am I reminded of my good friend Chase?_

 

Ice cream, pudding, and 'The Lion King'. Not a bad way to spend the small hours.

 


	8. If you'll let him. {Chase Brody X Reader}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chase Brody, looking after a sick reader.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I think Chase would be wonderful at taking care of his partner. If someone let him. 
> 
> Set while Chase is recording for Jack. I don't mention Robin by name, because in this, i don't think Robin knows that the person sending him things isn't Jack- Chase covered his tracks.

Chase had finished recording for the day, and had sent the footage off to Jack's editor. Time was his again.

 

Time to drag you away from whatever you were working on.   You tossed yourself  wholeheartedly into your work.

 

When he got to your work room he was surprised, then worried.

 

You had your arm on top of your desk, cushioning your head, the other arm over your stomach.

 

Pretty much passed out, you were.

 

He walked over, and gently put a hand on your shoulder, then winced when you jumped.

 

"Whoa, it's just me!"

 

He turned your chair so you were facing him.

 

The hood of the hoodie you were wearing was covering your head up, he pushed it off.

 

You blinked slowly at him, not quite there. Drifting in and out, trying to stay with it and failing.

 

Chase pressed a kiss to your forehead. As he expected, you were warm. Warmer than usual.

 

He doesn't question why you haven't complained, or sought help

 

It's just how you are- you are seldom part of the equation. You rarely consider yourself.

 

He's working to help you with that, old lessons learned die hard.

 

"Come on. We're going someplace more comfortable, I'm not leaving you to sleep on the desk, Mira."

 

+

 

Soon you two were on the couch. You didn't want to lay down just yet, fighting what your body needed.

 

Besides, you did not want to mess up the bed, and from how you felt?

 

You knew- and you hated knowing- vomit would be part of this. Just waiting for it- then you could pass out.

 

Your head was complaining, too. You wanted to doze off.

 

Chase noticed when you started to shiver.

 

"C'mere."

 

You'd just get pulled over the space inbetween the two of you, so you gave in, curling into a ball against his chest, as the chills continued to wrack your body. His hands slid softly through your hair.

 

You relaxed against him.

 

You were starting to relax, when your stomach stared to complain, loudly.

 

It startled Chase, who was concentrating on comforting you with gentle touches, everywhere except your stomach, which you'd been guarding with your arms.

 

"Holy-  _was that your stomach!?_ "

 

You nodded. You'd been feeling it before it had been audible. Now was the time to decide if you would stay and live with the hurt, or get up and lock yourself in the bathroom.

 

You swallow roughly.

 

You knew from before, that all you'd have to do at this point is drop your arms from your stomach, and he'd rub it.

 

He was good at it, his hands are always warm, it would make it better, or end it quickly.

 

So you risked it.

 

Being as gentle as he could, Chase began to massage gentle circles into your belly.

 

From the bottom of your stomach, a belch rumbled up, causing three things at once:

 

A panic-y "sorry!"  Your cheeks going rosy, and you clapping a hand over your mouth.

 

If you didn't feel so bad, it wouldn't have happened. Not in front of Chase.

 

Spit flooded your mouth. You turned away from him, and grabbed the basin that was on the floor.

 

Just in time, too. Your stomach jumped into your throat, and a thick mess poured out of your mouth into it.

 

Your heaving was violent, and Chase threw an arm over your legs to prevent you from falling head first off him. 

 

It was a fight to even start, and it seemed your stomach was fighting itself every step of the way.

 

Soon enough, though- it was just spit and bile and an empty stomach cramping on nothing.

 

 

Chase's voice was gentle in your ear.

 

"Done?"

 

 

 

You nod, and he puts the basin on the floor.

 

 

How can he be so gentle, when you'd just thrown up, sitting in his lap like a child?

 

 

You want to disappear.

 

 

You curled back into his chest, and you felt tears sting your eyes.

 

 

Everything hurt…

 

 

You feel a hand cradle the back of your head and Chase's other arm drape diagonally across your back

 

 

"Hey, no-  Shh.  I know you aren't well. It's gonna be okay, Mira"

 

 

He held you for a moment.

 

 

"Move for just a minute."

 

 

You got off his lap.

 

 

He stood, then scooped you up bridal style.

 

 

You were grateful- you don't think you'd make it to the bedroom, anyway.

 

 

"Let's get you to bed, sweetheart."

 

Chase placed you on the bed you share. you folded in a fetal ball on your side.

 

"I'll be back in a few minutes, Y/N."

 

You covered your stomach with your arms, again and closed your eyes.

 

you feel weight join you on the bed. at the least, you realize there won't be any need to plead for him to stick around. when Chase worries, he keeps you within arms distance.

 

He drapes an arm around you, you squirm until you are facing him, and press yourself into the warmth he provides.  you make a contented noise in the back of your throat.

 

+

 

The trouble comes a few hours later when Chase extricates himself from you to get something for you to drink.

 

He's gentle in waking you, but you don't want the water he's trying to get you to drink.

 

Your stomach still feels like you're on thin ice with it.

 

"Please? I don't want you to get dehydrated."

 

You hate throwing up. Hate it when your stomach hurts. Hate being weak and needy.

 

You hear the crack of plastic, of a cap being taken off.

 

There's a beat,  then a soft press of plastic pressed to your lips.

 

"Small sips, Y/N."

 

That's an echo of what you've said to him, you'd laugh, but yeah, not risking choking.

 

You do what he asks.

 

Halfway through, you push the bottle away. You sink back, shaking your head and squeezing your eyes shut.

 

Your stomach groans and your eyes fly wide open.

 

You burp lowly, a hand goes over your mouth.

 

"Here, hang on!"

 

The basin slides onto your lap, and you take your hand away. the water that you'd drunk pours out like a waterfall. You choke and heave again, tears stinging your eyes.

 

A hand rubs circles on your back.

 

"Ok. It's okay, Babe. We just need to try something else," Chase murmers gently.

 

+

Coke left to sit for a few minutes so it isn't as foamy works better. You even get ibprophen down.

 

You doze fitfully, in and out throughout the night.

 

Near dawn, you're sick, again, you lost count of how many times in the night.

 

It really hurts after you finish, the last time.

 

Chase lies next to you, rubbing soothing circles into your stomach and sides.

 

"Hurts…", you moan

 

"I know, I know."

 

"….Hate this…"

 

"I know- It's usually me.

 

You like it that way," Chase remarks, amused, then cuts off when he sees how your eyes widen.

 

"I don't like it when you're hurt!" you cry brokenly.

 

"No. I know. That came out wrong, Babe. I just mean, you don't like being weak.

 

Your job doesn't let you, the way you were raised- I can't say don't feel bad about it, it's not something you turn off."

 

"It's just- I don't mind. Never did. You need me? All good. Everything's ok."

 

You reach for him.  One of his hands pulls away from you and catches your hand, brings it to his lips. Kisses your knuckles and palm.

 

He slides both of his hands onto your belly and keeps rubbing, until you relax enough to let exhaustion win over the pain, and drop off into sleep again.

 

+

 

Chase leaves you napping at dawn. He cleans the house a bit, makes breakfast and coffee for himself. He tries to relax, but soon goes to check on you.

 

you had been slightly starfish-ed when he'd left, relaxed and loose. you were curled up again when he stepped back into the room.

 

He heard the reason as he got closer, your stomach. It growled unhappily. You shifted in your sleep and whimpered in the back of your throat.

 

Chase nimbly climbed onto the bed, reaching for you again. His warm hands moved in circles on your tummy, he was trying to soothe you without waking you up.

 

A few moment's later, your hand slides on top of his.

 

"...Feels good," you purr, your eyes blinking open, soft and full of love for him.

 

 

"Didn't mean t'wake you," he responds, sounding sheepish.

 

 

His own eyes were soft, they always were when he looked at you.

 

When he loved, you could always see it, but he kept it for the important things. You. His children. The other Egos.

 

He let the rest of the world slide off his back like water.

 

He suggests food, even though you worry, he brushes it off.

 

He brings you dry toast, a banana, and a mug of chamomile tea.

 

It goes down easy.  It seems you're on the mend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. made this a series. the other one has a prompt list waiting to be requested.  
> Go look! i just posted the first request!


	9. In Anger Forgotten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nony mous asked for:
> 
> Can I get a thing where Mark impulsively yells at the reader for something and they go into full blown panic mode and hide and Mark apologizes and reader tries to insist it's all their fault not his, but he comforts them bc he didn't mean it and he knows he shouldn't shout when he's angry because of their trauma and they make up because that's wHAT HEALTHY COUPLES DO.
> 
> ... May have gone a bit too long. but this is what my brain did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A nony mous asked for:
> 
> Can I get a thing where Mark impulsively yells at the reader for something and they go into full blown panic mode and hide and Mark apologizes and reader tries to insist it's all their fault not his, but he comforts them bc he didn't mean it and he knows he shouldn't shout when he's angry because of their trauma and they make up because that's wHAT HEALTHY COUPLES DO.
> 
> ... May have gone a bit too long. but this is what my brain did.   
> Also warning for an abuse flashback.

The damn video is cursed. Everything that can go wrong does.

 

Then, when things are settled for the- _fourth? Fifth?_ \- time. You tripped while filming.

 

It's too many things wrong, in too short of a time. Last straw.

 

_Mark snaps._

 

He dosen't see that you hurt yourself when you fell, trying to save the camera instead of yourself.

 

He only sees _red._

 

_'WHAT THE FLYING_ **_FUCK_ ** _IS_ **_WRONG_ ** _WITH YOU?! I TRUST YOU TO DO ONE THING,_ **_ONE SIMPLE THING_ ** _, AND YOU FAIL. YOU USELESS-"_

 

A strangled sob splashes ice water on his rage, and he blinks and actually looks at you.

 

You are still on the ground, half frozen, tears steaming down your face.

 

You try to push yourself up once, but don't make it, grunting in pain as you fall back. You use your other arm, and run once you're on your feet.

 

+

 

Mark finds you in the bedroom. 

 

You were tucked into a corner, arms around your knees, small as you could make yourself.

 

What worries him the most is what he can hear. you are muttering under your breath.

 

"Stupid. stupid. stupid. Can't do anything right.  M'just a Fuck-up. I know what I'm worth."

 

Mark got onto the floor, intending to comfort you.

 

He knew he'd fucked up, and needed to fix it.

 

But as soon as he got too close, you flinched violently, your head hitting the wall behind you.

 

Mark winced.

 

"Y/N? It's me. I'm so sorry."

 

He knows better that to yell.

 

Anger was not a good enough reason.

 

He knew about your past, has nursed you through nightmares, had been the one you could trust.

 

Could still be, if he could reach you.

 

He'd give you time.

 

He sat back until you had space. So he was reachable, but not crowding you.

 

He waits.

 

Soon enough there's an intake of breath. You blink and there's a wry smile on your face.

 

"I'm sorry."

 

"Why are _you_ apologizing?"

 

"I'm the idiot who ran away from their own mistake."

 

"I scared you, Y/N."

 

"You shouldn’t have to deal with my pathetic ass.”

 

"No. No. Today. Today was not good. I should not take it out on you."

 

"I. I am-"

 

"No."

 

 

Mark's quiet, stern. you can't protest when he's like that.

 

"I have a temper sometimes, I'm loud, I yell. But it should never be at you. You don't deserve it- no matter what you do. 

 

No matter what you think you've done wrong or how badly you mess up.

 

I want to make this right. I will try everything within my power to make this right because I don’t want to lose you. 

 

I love you, Y/N. You don't need to say it back right now, just know that it's still true.

 

What can I do?"

 

 

"Can we just. Be done with today?" You ask.

 

 

"I want to go to bed. Just to be there, the two of us. Just together. I still want you with me. Don't leave. The rest can wait for a bit"

 

"Let me fix your wounds first.  Your knees are bloody, and you're protecting your wrist. I can't relax if you're hurt."

 

Mark never minds being your pillow. You are curled as close as you can be. His heartbeat soothes you, and you drift.

 

+

 

Forgiving is easy. Your heart knows that he didn't mean it.

 

Forgetting? A door in your mind has been broken open, and it's hard to close again.

 

**+**

 

_Your father's bellows split the air._

 

_"YOU'RE WORTHLESS! I DON'T EXPECT MUCH, JUST A CLEAN HOUSE, FOOD ON THE TABLE, AND YOU CAN'T DO ONE SIMPLE THING!"_

 

_"Y/N! GET OVER HERE!"_

 

_Your arm is wrenched painfully, you weren't fast enough._

 

_You are swung toward the kitchen table. Your school things are spread out, you'd been working when he came home._

 

_"_ **_LOOK AT THAT MESS!_ **

 

_IT'S SIMPLE, KEEPING THINGS CLEAN._

 

_ALL THAT STUFF YOUR TEACHER'S SAY ABOUT YOU BEING SO SMART,_ **_FUCKING BULLSHIT!_ ** _YOU CAN'T DO SOMETHING SO SIMPLE, YOU'RE JUST LIKE YOUR MOTHER."_

 

_"I was doing my work-"_

 

_Stinging pain on your face, your ears ring._

 

_"DON'T_ **_FUCKING_ ** _TALK BACK, YOU LITTLE_ **_SHIT! NO EXCUSE!"_ **

 

_He swings you by your arm again, and lets go, you land painfully on the floor._

 

_You hear your mother scream. He turns on her, you find your feet and run._

 

_You crash through the back door and into the woods behind your house._

 

_You can hear him behind you, you keep running._

 

_You collapse behind a tree, pressing your face into bark._

 

_A hard grips your arm in a bruising grip._

 

**_"HOW DARE YOU RUN FROM ME!"_ **

 

+

Mark's not sure what wakes him. He's just greatful it wasn't a nightmare on his end.

 

He looks up at the ceiling, then shuts his eyes again.

 

He feels you shift against him.  Then, he hears you whimper.

 

Not his nightmare. Yours. _That's what woke him._

 

The things that usually work to wake you don't.

 

He slips a hand around your unhurt wrist.

 

Your eyes fly open, and you jerk away, eyes unseeing.

 

"Y/N?"

 

What came out of your mouth made everything ten times worse.

 

" _Don't hit me anymore. Please. Please,_ ** _Don't._** "

 

Mark feels sick. He's not giving up, though.

 

First off, no more distance.

 

He moves, and wraps his arms around you loosely, if you needed to move away, you could.

 

Keeping his voice as soft as he can, he starts talking. Nothing but sweetness and comfort, pouring from his lips.

 

"Baby. It's alright. It’s over, that part is over now. You're with me, you're safe. I gotcha, It's alright. Come on, come back to me."

 

You blink a few times.

 

"Mark?"

 

He makes an answering noise and you turn and bury your face in his chest.

 

His arms tighten around you, greatful that you aren't hesitant, and that you still know he's a safe place.

 

Your nightmares come from your past, and all he can do is be there for you. He knows today did not help.

 

He knows your past will always effect you. He loves you anyways. You don't give up when you love someone.

 

Mark holds you close for a bit longer, then lets go of you and gets up.

 

Your eyes track him as he heads toward the dresser. He pulls out sweatpants and a shirt for you to change into.

 

It helps, after.

 

You change. Mark heads out of the bedroom, and you follow.

 

After your nightmares, you are quiet. Pliant. You'd do anything, as long as he doesn't leave.

 

It had scared him the first few times. But now he has a routine.

 

Mark heads downstairs, to the kitchen.

 

He'd do homemade, in a pot from the stovetop, cocoa, like you do for him. But he can't get it to taste right.

 

So fancy tinned hot chocolate mix, from a tin, stirred into microwaved milk.

 

"French vanilla or English toffee?" Mark asks

 

"English toffee."

 

He sets the mugs inside and sets the timer.

 

He makes cinnamon sugar toast, as well.

 

You happily eat and drink, your free hand in his.

+

Tucked back into bed, warm full stomach, sleep creeping at your edges.

 

Mark reads to you from one of the childhood favorites you'd reclaimed, books being one of the things no one could ruin.

 

'Henry Higgins' this time.

 

The rumble of his chest, the familiar words. They set your mind to a safer path as you drift.

 

Tomorrow will be better. Not perfect, but better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requests are always accepted. There's another fic in this series with a prompt list. go check It out!   
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/14911091/chapters/34538480


	10. It's all right, Dearest One.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> idomyowething asked for:  
> Ah i love these so much. I like your writing style a lot and all the comfort gooey stuff makes me so happy and warm to read. I’m such a glutton for dark and if you could do something maybe with him? Maybe with a reader who gets anxiety like bad anxiety constantly. Maybe she drops a plate or something and just full blown panics? Idk sorry if that’s weird at all but i like your writing a lot!
> 
> For you, the softest Dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idomyowething asked for:  
> Ah i love these so much. I like your writing style a lot and all the comfort gooey stuff makes me so happy and warm to read. I’m such a glutton for dark and if you could do something maybe with him? Maybe with a reader who gets anxiety like bad anxiety constantly. Maybe she drops a plate or something and just full blown panics? Idk sorry if that’s weird at all but i like your writing a lot!
> 
> For you, the softest Dark.

 

You just wanted to feel like more than a kept girl, more than a dammed pet. You cook for Dark and yourself- though he doesn't seem to need it like you do.

 

You clean the house, again, it needs very little.

 

You have no job. You'd work for the egos, but Dark shuts you down everytime you ask.

 

Considering how he found you, you don't fight that hard. You are greatful that you get to stay.

 

You [fidget with the bracelet at your wrist](https://cdn-us-cf2.yottaa.net/5880f4d8312e5807a100002a/534b8a905040013515f3026173a6dedd.yottaa.net/v~22.1e9/LCProdImage/LCProdImage/28/5/2856730.jpg?yocs=n_t_A_&yoloc=us), the one Dark had given you when he'd found out how bad it got for you.

 

 He'd said he needed to know how you were at all times.

 

He'd pulled you back together many times, caring more for you than anyone ever had.

 

Today it is dishes. A gathering of egos had occurred the night before. Plenty of dirty dishes and feeling useful for once.

 

You liked cooking, and would take care of the others too, _if_ Dark would let you.

 

Maybe someday.

 

The closest you'd gotten was with Wilford. Made sense, because Wil was Dark's right hand man, the one most involved, the most trusted.

 

"Besides you, Dearest." he'd assured.

 

That admission had made your cheeks warm. 

 

You start to put dishes, glasses, ect, away. As you pull a plate, the rest fall back, knocking several of them and a few glasses onto the floor.

 

_No. Oh no._

 

_You are such a fuck-up._

 

_Why does he keep you?_

 

_Why does he care?_

 

_You ruin everything you touch!_

 

You're hot, you can barely feel your hands or feet, then you're doubling over as you feel like you are being stabbed in the stomach.

 

Your throat feels tight, you sink to the floor so you won't fall as dizziness overwhelms you.

 

_It hurts._

 

_Clean up your mess. He'll keep you if you fix it._

 

You crawl to the shards, numbly gathering them into a pile.

 

_Worthless._

 

_Worthless._

 

**_Worthless!_ **

 

**_+_ **

 

In his office, Dark tensed as he felt the needle sting from the charm on your bracelet that told him you were emotionally unstable. It was mostly triggered by your anxiety.

 

Then, the burn that warned of physical pain. He stood, and teleported home. 

 

You needed him. Everything else could wait.

 

His feet hit the ground, and Dark used his aura to connect with the bracelet, and find exactly where you were.

 

_Kitchen._

 

You were still on the floor, piling the shards. There was blood in the mess, now.

 

 From your hands-

 

-and nose. 

 

You'd stressed yourself into a nosebleed as well.

 

With a wave of his hand the mess disappeared.

 

Dark would have done the same had he been there when the dishes fell, he would rather have had you not come to harm.

 

You were deathly still now. Nothing to fix, nothing to do but let the shame swallow you whole.

 

 _Why can't you_ **_die_ ** _of shame. He'd be rid of you then._

 

Dark steps away for moment, then crouches in front of you.  A cotton handkerchief appears in his hands and he gently wipes the blood off of your face

 

In his other hand he holds a pretty blue pillbox. Inside are a few doses of a fast acting anti anixity medicine.

 

Fingers press to your lips.

 

"Open."

 

 You comply.

 

"Under your tongue. That's it, Dearest. Good Girl."

 

There's a burst of sweetness in your mouth as the pill melts

 

"I don't care how many times I have to say it."

 

One of Dark's hands cups your face and makes your eyes meet.

 

"I know far too well where your thoughts go, Y/N. You are **_Mine_**.

 

Nothing will take you from me. No mistake would drive me away. _You are mine_ , and _that is that_."

 

He pulls you into his arms and stands.

 

+

 

Soon you were in the bedroom the two of you shared. He sat you on the end of the bed, and went to the ensuite bathroom. 

 

You heard water run, the door under the sink open. He was back with the first aid kit, and a damp facecloth.

 

He took each of your hands, and washed the blood away, delicately cleaning each finger

 

He saw a foot was bloody, and took care of that as well.

 

Antibiotic ointment, Band-Aids, and gauze were applied as needed.

 

You were getting dozy from the medication, he knew it acted fast.

 

He snapped his fingers, you were in clothing you could sleep in, as was he, he wasn't leaving you alone. 

 

You were curled fetal on your side.

 

Dark sighs, lies down, and pulls you on top of him like normal.

 

It took forever to make you realize he was okay with it. No going back because of panic or fear.

 

+

 

You blinked awake.

 

The bedroom was dim, it must be late in the evening.

 

_Why were you?-_

 

 _-Oh_ **_. No. Not again._ ** _Over_ **_dishes?_ ** _How pathetic_ **_am_ ** _I?'_

 

 

Arms tightened around you.

 

 

You're still on top of Dark, your head tucked under his.

 

 

"Whatever you are thinking, _Stop."_ Dark's voice reverberates through you.

 

 

It's too late to stop the tears or the return rush of shame.

 

 

A rough little rumble of frustration shakes you, and thumbs swipe at your tears.

 

So gentle you barely feel it, he moves you. You are cradled in his lap like something precious, it makes tears come again, and you squeeze your eyes shut tight.

 

Something wet is pressed to your lips, and trusting, you open your mouth. Watermelon.

 

Cold and sweet, from the big bowl in the fridge that you fill once a week.

 

You chew and swallow it down.

 

Keeping your eyes shut, you let Dark feed you, interspersed with sips of honeyed mint tea from a straw.

 

Then something diffrent. _Lindor._ The truffle bar squares you like. 

 

You let the chocolate melt, let it coat your mouth and throat, humming in pleasure.

 

Dark's hand slides along your body, stroking across your belly, your back, your sides.  He knows exactly where to touch to make you melt.

 

The medicine still in your system makes your eyes heavey. 

 

"Sleep, dearest one," Dark purrs.

 

"I'll be here when you wake again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited to fix a woops on my part, carry on!
> 
> For anyone who has requested, or wants to. sometimes I am slow at typing, sometimes no matter what i do it's slow, or won't come at all. I'm trying, and your requests make me so happy.


	11. It should be fixed, now...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've edited things so my preferred nickname doesn't show up where Y/N should be.  
> I am so careful, it must be a browser glitch.   
> Sorry, all.

I've edited things so my preferred nickname doesn't show up where Y/N should be.

It must be a glitch, I have this extension in my browser, and... well, it looked normal when i posted it. 

I am so careful, so this makes me crazy.

Sorry, all. 

If anyone else wants requests after this fuck up, go ahead and ask. 

I do love to write. I don't want to make anyone unhappy.


	12. To  fight when you feel like flying.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by anonymous: 
> 
> Okay, how about Mark catches the reader about to or in the middle of a suicide attempt? You can decide the details

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requested by anonymous:
> 
> Okay, how about Mark catches the reader about to or in the middle of a suicide attempt? You can decide the details.
> 
> So warnings for that.

_Mark had projects, commitments. So you were alone more than not. Alone never did you any good._

 

_But your mask was flawless. He didn't see. You didn't need to drag him down._

 

_You couldn't sleep. Your eyes burned._

 

_As the weight of-_

 

**_Never Good Enough. Flawed. Worthless. Stupid. Fuck-up._ **

 

_-Settled again in your bones._

 

_You felt Mark's warmth next to you. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully._

 

_He'd wrap himself around you, if you reached for him._

 

_He loves you._

 

_You don't know why._

 

_It hurts._

 

_Everything hurts now._

 

_But you don't want to bother him._

 

_You sneak out of bed, thankful you don't wake him or dear Chica._

 

_Your throat and lungs burn with holding back cries._

 

_Once you get outside, you sink down onto the grass and cry your heart out._

 

_No one comes. No ones sees._

 

_You shouldn't be like this. There is no reason._

 

_You have a good life._

 

+

A month, now

 

You're tired of fighting.

 

Mark didn't need your problems too. He did not need to deal with your fucked up mind.

 

You found yourself thinking you could just disappear. you could stop existing. It would be easy.

 

Pills. Blades. Ropes. All within reach. It could be over.

 

He'd move on and find some one better.  Mark deserved better than you, you never quite got why he loved you in the first place.

 

No. Wait.

 

You're better than that.

 

Don't put the burden of finding your body on him.

 

He'll take a trip for a project. Leave a note. Be gone before he comes home.

 

+

**Mark.**

 

**Don't blame yourself, okay? This was all me.**

 

**Never was any of my fucked up self your fault.**

 

**It's strange. You could always see right through me.**

 

**Love makes you blind, I am not what you need.**

 

**My truth is, you were my life's best part.**

 

**I'm so sorry. I love you. Always.**

 

**F/N M/N L/N**

 

+

 

You picked a cliff, overlooking the ocean.

 

 You'd always loved the water.

 

This was a favorite spot, you'd found peace here before.

 

 It fits, that this is where you'd choose to end it.

 

All you have to do is jump.  The rocks will either kill you on impact, or you'll drown when the tide comes in.

 

It will be over. That's all you need.

 

Your phone buzzes in your pocket. You'd only grabbed it on reflex. Fishing it out, you toss it away.

 

_Don't need it._

 

Your legs are shaking as you get closer to the edge.

 

You look down, waves crash onto rock.

 

_One step. Just one step. Fall. End it. The world is better off without you there to screw it up. Do it, you coward. Jump._ **_Jump. JUMP!_ **

 

 

**_"Y/N!"_ **

 

That scream. Full lung power, heartbreak laced through.

 

**_Mark._ **

 

This wasn't what was meant to happen. He came home early.

 

You were supposed to be gone.

 

_Fucking coward, too damn slow._

 

"Y/N. Please. Please. Don't-

 

Behind you, Mark is crossing the distance. As he gets close enough to grab you, you step forward.

 

"Jesus! Okay, I’ll stay over here, just--just don’t do anything, okay, please?

 

 

 I didn't know it was this bad, Y/N."

 

 

"You weren’t meant to. I- I can't. Not anymore. You. We aren't built the same, Mark.

 

You. Are. So strong.

 

Everything rolls of you like water.

 

I-

 

Everything drags me down.  I'm tired. So tired. Tired of fighting when I can't win.

 

**_Nothing changes._ **

 

I-  I. Just. I don't know what else to do!”

 

“ _You come to me!_ ” Mark cries out brokenly.

 

"You come to me, and _I take care of it_. I'd _always_ take care of you! You don’t- **_Fuck!_**

 

You don’t do **this**.”

 

"Why can't you just let me _go?_ " your request ends on a sob.

 

"You being gone isn't going to make anything better." Mark says, his voice thick and full of tears,

 and he means it.

 

With his whole heart, he means it.

 

He sees you waver and takes his shot. Quickly, he runs, and grabs you in his arms, carrying you away from the cliff.

 

He's not as strong as he normally is. With the horror of coming home and finding your note, and the shock of seeing you at the cliff's edge running through him, he's weak with it.

 

When he thinks it's safe, he drops, with you in his arms. He's not letting go, not giving you the chance.

 

"Please listen to me, Y/N. You’re so damn strong. Stronger than you think.

 

…Stay with me.  Just- make it through the night, okay?

 

Give me that? _Please?_ " Mark pleads.

 

You look at him for the first time since he got here.

 

His face in a word? **_Devastation._**

 

_He's so_ **_hurt._ **

 

Something inside you **shatters**.

 

You feel…

 

You've been treading water, and this was you letting go.

 

Being saved hurts like hell.

 

You don't mean to dump more on Mark. But your body and mind have had enough.

 

You are not running things anymore.

 

You've cried more this last month than you have in a long time, but this isn't normal crying

 

These are the cries of someone who's done fighting. Who doesn't care what happens next.

 

Hurt and pain and fear all wrapped in wordless wails and snot and tears.

 

You disappear, lost in hurt.

 

You come back slowly.

 

Arms around you, heartbeat in one ear, warm breath ruffles your hair.

 

You're being rocked.

 

Then the words Mark is murmuring register.

 

"Sh. Sh. Sh. It's alright, Sweetheart, I gotcha. We'll fix this, it will be okay. I love you so much. I've got you now, not letting go for anything. I love you. I'm here, Baby, I'm here."

 

Soft kisses press against your forehead and cheeks.

 

"Let's just go home. Can we do that, Baby?"

 

You nod and stand with his help.

 

Folding yourself into the passenger seat next to him, you decide,

 

If something this good, someone this wonderful can see the worse of you, and still want you to come home.

 

You can keep fighting a little longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this felt like it ended okay, I kept trying to add more, and nothing else fit.
> 
> also, as I type this this fic is at 1306 hits. Holy shit. nothing I've ever written has ever been that popular. 
> 
> Thank you all so much! Knowing that someone likes my silly writing keeps me going.
> 
> Writing is an escape, and I love all of the prompts.


	13. New story for Egos!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just an update.

So, I needed a place to put all my Septic/Ipiler Ego Oneshots.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15322044/chapters/35549457

This is also where you go to request them from now on.

I do poly.

I prefer Ego X reader.

** _I Do Not Do Abusive Egos._ **

I'll also do short headcanons/ Imagines as well.

All the tags on the first story aply here as well.

Just ask. if i can write for you I will.

I'm working on all the requests I've gotten. 

It takes time, being so detailed. I'm working as fast as i can. 

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested By Anon:  
> I’ve been dealing with some stuff lately and idk maybe like a fix where the reader is friends with jack or smthn and they are maybe online friends but idk and they’re going thru a rough patch and so they don’t text any of their like. Online or irl friends because they just feel like a burden and don’t wanna bother anyone but maybe like uhh jack (Sean ?haha oops) picks up on it or they let something slip or smthn and then they just uhh kinda let t all out and jack comforts them??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note, I'm moving all the Ego oneshots over to a new story I've made for them.  
> That is also where I will be taking requests for those kind of oneshots
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/15322044.

_You'd been friends since you were kids, meeting in your first year of secondary school._

_Both 12, with three months between, you were the younger of the two of you._

 

_Dad picked Ireland as the place he wanted to settle after 15 years of moving from place to place for his job._

 

_You'd grown up with him. He was your best friend. The one who'd always been there._

 

**_-2014-_ **

 

_Jack yawned and streched. He was working on thumbnails. He needed a break._

 

_His phone went off, and he caught it as it was about to vibrate off his desk._

 

_He saw your number, and picked up at once._

 

_From your hello, he knew something was wrong._

 

_"Can you.. just.. talk to me." Your voice wavered as you asked for the distraction you needed._

 

_He did._

 

_About what he planned to record for the rest of the week, random shit that had happened since the two of you had spoken last._

 

_Normal stuff. It was soothing._

 

_Jack would get calls like this for the next month. Not every night, but at least once a week._

 

_Then they stopped, and the worry that had been bubbling in him burst._

 

_You'd sworn you were okay, but some part of him had known better._

 

_He called your parents after all else failed._

 

_You'd been admitted to a psychiatric hospital, for depression and suicidal thoughts._

 

_The fight had started there._

 

 

**+Present day+-**

 

It felt like you were losing.  Life wasn't great at the moment.

 

Jack was your best friend, but right now, there were more important things.

 

He had tours, and his own work.  You shouldn't bother him, even if you felt like you were drowning again.

 

It had been a miracle that he'd had time to visit on your birthday, now two months ago.

 

You can't ask him for more than you got.

 

You'll be okay. It will pass. One day at time, right?

 

Although, if nothing changes? Why fight it?

 

The voices in your head get muffled, _but they don't_ ** _stop._**

 

Why did he ever care in the first place? You weren't anything special?

 

Even the community, who'd welcomed you with open arms years ago, felt wrong now.

 

You didn't need to drag them down. Didn't need to drag Jack down.

 

It wasn't anything new.

 

If you disappeared,  there were millions who could take your place

 

+

_The phone buzzed, Jack's number lighting up the screen._

 

_You let it go. Again. He'd give up and move on to more important things._

 

_Your stomach twisted painfully with nerves and guilt, but you wrapped your arms around yourself and stayed still._

 

_It stopped, eventually, and you could breathe again._

 

_He'd hate you soon enough. Lord knows you hated yourself._

 

_+_

**+Text never sent+**

_I'm sorry we're out of touch, Sean._

_..._

_I am scared._

 

_Scared of where my mind will lead me to._

 

_Everything got_ _worse._

 

_I'm._

 

_I can't do this alone!_

 

…I **_am_** alone.

 

_I don't know what to do anymore._

 

 

 

+

Sean decided enough was enough. He'd drag it out of you if he had to.

 

He was hoping it could just be a good night, movies, your favorite takeout, a proper talk so he could set you straight.

 

He'd seen your last stream. You had not looked well. He had not messaged you or chatted, not wanting to steal attention from you. It had happened before.

 

What kind of friend was he if he didn't try?

 

You had given him a key when you'd moved in, telling him he was always welcome, and he's taken it as the gift it was.

 

He let himself in, and stashed the treat he'd gotten for you in the freezer.

 

The kitchen was spotless. Not been used in a while spotless. That worried him. You forgot to eat sometimes that was true, but this was way different.

 

He called out for you, checking the rooms along the way, heading for the attic space you called the Loft.

 

+

There was no way to ignore Sean, not with his lung power.

 

So you sat, and waited, and hoped he wasn't too angry.

 

Your eyes burned, too many tears, and not enough time inbetween.

 

His muffled footsteps soon sounded on the stairs leading to what you called the loft.

 

The door opened, Sean steps in and flips the light switch. 

 

There's a million words in his head, a thousand admonitions in his throat, but you look up at him-

 

Red rimmed eyes, exausted, defeat in every line of your body.

 

Words will fail, they are not enough.  Actions, however-

 

He walks over to your bed, and hugs you harder than anything.

 

Gravity takes over, and you both fall back to the bed.

 

Sean's had a piece of you with him since you were kids. You have a piece of him, as well.

 

It's nothing that can be seen, but it's real.

 

You thought it was lost, but this proves it was only out of place.

 

Metaphorically speaking, you jump off a cliff, Sean's right there flying after you.

 

Realistically, not so much. But the sentiment is true.

 

He'd follow you anywhere.

 

"Ok, Y/N, talk."

 

You look at him.

 

He's not leaving without finding out what the hell happened, and if he could help in anyway.

 

"I fight against the voices in my head every damn day. When I slip, I can useally catch myself.

 

This time,  by the time I saw how deep I was, it felt safer- better even, to stay were I was.

 

I wouldn't drag anyone with me."

 

"Y/N! You're my best friend. Don't you think there's anyway I wouldn't try to be there-"

 

" ** _That's_** why!-

 

you interrupted.

 

-You! We lead different lives now. I'm not ruining anything for you by being needy-

 

" ** _You don't!_** "

 

That was angrier, sharper, than Sean meant it to be. He feels you flinch.

 

Softer, he continues

 

" ** _You're my best friend_** , I love you. If anything happened, and I didn't try my hardest to be there for you- _if I lost you_ -

 

-It would kill some part of me."

 

"You have a lot more friends, Sean. You'd be-"

 

"Do **_NOT_** say I'd be Ok. Or fine. I could never replace you, Y/N."

 

Not many friends would put so much aside for each other.

 

Now that you've told him, you just want to fall asleep in his arms. Carrying things takes a lot out of anyone.

 

"Well, I'm here now. We'll figure things out."

 

He's interrupted, with a very familiar sound, except it's useally on his end, and you tease him for it.

 

"That answers one of my questions."

 

You roll your eyes, then wince when your stomach growls louder, because that one kinda hurt.

 

You can't quite remember when you ate last, so..

 

"So, pizza? I've got a good place on speed dial."

 

Okay.

 

You order your usual, Sean's- With pineapple, of course!- and a serving of their awesome garlic cheese bread.

 

"Marvel movie marathon?" you offer after you hang up.

 

"Lead the way," He says with a grin.

 

You start with Dr Strange. As Sean is to Ryan Reynolds, so are you to Benedict Cumberbatch.

 

In very different ways, of course. Same goes for Chris Pratt.

 

The movie was like a comfort blanket. You could wrap yourself in it, and forget for awhile.

 

Many movies, pizza, garlic cheesy bread, and Oreo ice cream, the surprise Sean had brought, later, you were sleepy.

 

But you didn't want to give Sean up.

 

You could see that he didn't really want to be going to sleep in the lonely guest room.

 

Fuck It. It was sleeping, your bed was big enough.

 

How many times, when you were kids, had you ended curled up together in a pile of blankets and pillows  after a long night of movies/video games?

 

This was the same. Plus added comfort for you and, well it was better than the floor. Both of us are too old for that.

 

"C'mon, we'll sleep in the Loft. My beds big enough. I think I have some sleep clothes you left here last time."

 

Tucked into comforting sheets,  the warmth of your best friend beside you, you feel better about tomorrow, for the first time in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the worst time getting this one out. Sorry anon!


	15. His lion's heart will protect you under stormy skies.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Star:  
> can I get some good old storm comfort? Reader wakes up or can't sleep during a storm and Mark helps them sleep? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Star.  
> can I get some good old storm comfort? Reader wakes up or can't sleep during a storm and Mark helps them sleep? 

You blinked awake as the wind picks up, the rain patters

 

Rain isn't so bad, but-

 

There a flash, then a distant rumble.

 

You tried your best to check the weather, to know the next 24 hours.

 

 But not only did you have your own projects, You were helping Mark with his own. So you'd fallen straight into bed.

 

And now, a storm.

 

You useally snuck out of bed, before a storm. Sat in the living room.

 

If it got bad enough, you'd call your mother, or your Uncle, Josh, both night owls, and who knew how bad it could get.

 

It was too late.

 

The old familiar dread washed over you. 

 

 _Flash_.

 

**_CRASH!_ **

 

The wind tosses the rain, which spatters against the window like gravel.

 

And you wrap your part of the blankets around yourself, trying to block the sounds out.

 

_You are very small, and standing under a tree, trying to escape what sounds like a monster in the darkened skies. Arms scoop you up and you are swiftly carried back inside._

 

_Older. You pound on the back door of your grandparents house as another storm rages. Screaming for your cousins, your uncle, for anyone. You can just hear muffled giggles behind the door._

 

_Your uncle saves you eventually._

 

_Your hands are bruised for days, and you broke toes in both feet from your attack of the locked door._

 

_+_

 

Trapped in memories and old fear, You don't realize you're shaking.

 

Then you are carefuly turned over.

 

Any other time, you'd coo over Mark looking like this, adorably sleep mussed, groggy from being woken suddenly.

 

You'd kiss him in apology, and tell him to go back to sleep.

 

You can't even try to make a sound, you'll cry.

 

_Isn't it silly? A grown woman crying like a child because she's scared of a storm._

 

You can't stop anything. The shaking- the tears, now.

 

You're just as powerless as you were then.

 

The bed shifts.

 

You have a moment of - _this is it, he's leaving me_ -

 

 -You are pulled carefully close, on top of him.

 

_Then._

 

Mark’s velvet voice seeped into your bones like honey.

 

He was singing.

 

You- there's not a word for how you feel about his voice. But you rarely ask for him to sing for you.

 

Too many others do.

 

When he _does_ sing for you, it's a treasure. _Infinitely precious._

 

You're starting to relax, when there's a crack that shakes the house, and you jump.

 

That either hit the house, or was very close.

 

"It's okay, Y/N, Baby. You're inside, the storm can't touch you. I got you."

 

One of Mark's arms settles on your back for a moment, it slides until it's just his hand, and he moves on to another song.

 

As he sings, his hand switches between rubbing up and down your back, and patting it softly to the rhythm of the song he's singing.

 

Time passes, the storm outside dissipates to just rain, the cacophony of thunder and wind now calmer.

 

Your eyes are heavy again, Mark's voice is fainter, rough with sleepiness.  You can hear his heart under your ear, steady and true. The two of you are in a cocoon, sleep the only invited guest.

 

You let yourself drift, knowing you are safe.


	16. fluff and fever dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for Uhhh no one, who requested: can you maybe do something with Mark where the reader is sick and when they get sick they act drunk (disoriented and stupidly emotional) and just like a whole lofts silly fluff stuff as he tries to control them.   
> -  
> -with a big splash of angst that I could not control. it's just what came out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for Uhhh no one, who requested: can you maybe do something with Mark where the reader is sick and when they get sick they act drunk (disoriented and stupidly emotional) and just like a whole lofts silly fluff stuff as he tries to control them. 
> 
> this is a bit angstier that i expected, but its what came out when i wrote, and I'm not going to sit and worry about it anymore. I hope you enjoy.

Watching a sick Y/N was like babysitting.

 

You were just as wobbly as a toddler

 

Herding you toward the living room- close to the kitchen, couch to lie on, tv, best place to put you- was fun.

 

You managed to smack into the wall twice, before Mark corralled you with an arm.

 

You were giggly, clingy, grumpy.

 

"Don't _wanna_ sleep," you'd said with a pout and crossed arms on the edge of the bed.

 

_God, so cute._

 

But Mark knew that you were as stubborn as he was, so unless he wanted to sit on you all day…

 

Couch. Distract you with cartoons, cute animals, something. Cuddles. Meds and sick-food. You'd drop at some point, and he'd take you to bed and you'd both sleep.

 

It wouldn't be so bad. Right?

 

 

…Crying over cat videos.

 

Really, Y/N?

 

Wasn't even meant to be sad.

 

He cuddles you, passes you tissue, and tries his hardest to not laugh.

 

+

 

You're quieter now.

 

You'd spend most of the day, giggly or sad but as the late after noon turned to evening, you'd clung to him, wining when he'd move.

 

He'd snapped just a tiny bit earlier, he'd had to pee and you weren't letting go

 

Now, Mark is worried, he can't help it. He'd rather have the tantrum-ing toddler or the giggling kid, to be honest.

 

 You hadn't been _that_ bad.

 

Your quiet scares him. It's not comforting, like it is sometimes with the two of you, alone together.

 

It's tense, off.  After he'd snapped, You'd settled against the other side of the couch, staring at the TV with dull eyes.

 

Those eyes typically shined like stars. You really aren't well.

 

He looks over again, and tears are streaming down your face.

 

You hadn't made a sound.

 

Mark reaches for you, and pulls you into his arms.

 

Your fever had certainly gone up, but he'll take care of that in a minute

 

He doesn't know what set you off this time, but he'll fix it.

 

Mark rocks the both of you, rubbing your back and hushing you softly.

 

He's taking you to bed, you need to sleep in an actual bed. Not the couch, you'll both be sore if you spend all night there.

 

"Let's get you to bed, babe."

 

Mark stands up and scoops you up bridal style and heads to the bedroom.

 

He gently places you onto the bed after he pulls the covers loose.

 

He rinses your water glass, and coaxes you into taking more ibprophen.

 

He joins you. He's not going any where with you like this.

 

+

 

_…You're lost. You need to find Mark. You need to._

 

_Running down halls, almost falling down stairs.  Dead end after dead end._

 

_Crying out for him._

 

_Together. Need to be together.  We'll get out of this place if we do it together!_

 

_There he is!_

 

_Mark turns to face you. His eyes are so cold._

 

_"This is your fault. We wouldn't be lost in this fucking place if it weren't for you._

 

_…You can find you your own way, Y/N."_

 

_"Ple- please! Don't._ **_Don't!_ ** _"  You're choking on fear. On tears._

 

_He leaves you where you've sunk to the floor._

 

_He's right. You need too much, and it will ruin him. He should leave._

 

_You don't want to be alone._

 

_You hear Mark scream in terror.  You can't move fast enough, you slip, you fall over and over,_

 

_Another scream, agonized._

 

_You turn the corner to darkness, and the_ **_floor-_ **

 

_You fall on your knees, staring at all the blood._

 

_Mark's blood. He's gone._

 

_Gone._

 

**_GONE._ **

 

_Because of_ **_you_ ** _._

 

+

 

You jerk awake, and the scream that you want-

 

 _-need_ to let out, chokes you.

 

You can't breathe.  Your throat and chest are on fire.

 

You try calling for Mark but you stop and stutter over his name, never finishing as you cough and wheeze and struggle to breathe.

 

Then a warm arm supports you and lifts you so you're sitting up.

 

"I got you, baby," Mark murmurs tenderly.

 

He pulls pillows together and eases you onto them.

 

"I need to grab a few things, ok, Y/N? I'll be back."

 

You curl up when his warmth leaves.

 

There's a soft clatter- something being set down- then Mark's hand touches your back. You roll to face him, and settle onto the pillows again.

 

He gives you more Ibprophen,  then hands you a tea mug.

 

Honey lemon, good for your throat, the heat would clear your stuffy nose, too. 

 

You drink slowly and Mark gently traces his fingers across your side

 

After you finish that, Mark produces a plastic cup of rainbow sherbet. You love it, especially when you don't feel good, and you'd forgotten that you'd bought it.

 

Cherry-lime-lemon-orange in your mouth, the cold feels great, and the one two punch of tea and sherbet makes your sore throat stop complaining.

 

Mark's good at this.

 

You finish up your treat, and relax. Or try to.

 

Your brain can't let go of the dream.  It's all your worst fears, Mark leaving, because you're too much, you fucking **_everything_** up with him, and him _actually_ ** _dying_** **.**

 

Because… _Mark…_

 

…Mark just needs to _be alive_ , or there is no point to  _anything_.

 

_Even if he left you._

 

Thinking about it hurts ** _so much…_**

 

 _"_ Baby… _"_

 

Warm hands cup your face, thumbs wiping away tears.

 

You were in so deep you didn't feel or hear Mark move.

 

You have to explain, he's doing so good, you're a pain in the ass, he doesn't- he _shouldn't_ put up with your tears over something this stupid.

 

"…Was just thinking about the dream I had. It's **_stupid._** I'm fine. _I'm fine."_

 

Suddenly, you're in Mark's arms, and he lies back with you against his chest.

 

He tucks your head under his chin, and leaves an arm across your back.

 

"No. you are _not_ ** _fine._** I saw your face when you woke up, you were-

 

 Scared. Hurt. Both.

 

…

 

What the _hell_ did you dream?"

 

You told him the whole thing.

 

 The house, how there was some treasure or some secret that you wanted to find.

 

How the two of you got lost.

 

 How he was done with you.

 

How he _left you._

 

How he **_died._**

 

"I- I know it was my fault, but..."

 

"Stop right there!" Mark snaps

 

He huffs and runs his free hand trough his hair. The arm around you tightens minutely.

 

"First off, I might walk away if we fight, but I won't leave you.

 

 I'll always come back.

 

I'd never be done with you for a mistake. Or several. 

 

I get frustrated, yeah. I'd come back and we'd work it out. I'm not- I **_won't_** give up on you.

 

I plan to be with you as long as you want me. I wouldn't do some thing that stupid if we were in a   horror show like that, I promise you."

 

Mark kisses you on the forehead.

 

"You need sleep, Y/N. You're still sick. I'll be here, I promise.

 

He rubs your back and you drift.

 

"Sleep, baby. Everything's alright. I love you."


	17. please forgive me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a note about where i've been...

I am so sorry.   
I have been a horrible author.

But I have a reason. 

I sought help for my depression on the 12th of November.

This led to a month without internet.

I am getting back into things, slowly.

I am better off now.

I'll be posting new content soon.

I really do love you guys.


	18. Love is Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for MidnightMagistrate, who requested:
> 
> So Reader, Jack’s significant other, has had a bunch of anxiety about coming out to Jack as asexual for fear of him not loving her anymore?

You'd though yourself broken, once upon a time

Finding a name for it-

_ -Asexual _ -

-helped.

A lot.

But it didn't change the fact that when others found out, your romantic relationships… dissolved.

Jack was different, though.

He'd taken his time, and let you take the lead.

He'd been nothing but perfect

But he didn't know yet.

And god…

You didn't want to lose him.

_ Jack. Jacky. Sean. _

_ Those forever blue eyes. Always shining _

_ with laughter. _

_ with mischief. _

_ With love. _

_ His gentle hands. _

_ The perfect way he hugged. Warmth and safety in an embrace. _

_ His dancing Irish lilt that soothed the windswept branches of your nerves. _

_ His  _ **_kisses-_ **

_ Warm blankets. Fresh baked cookies. The feeling of floating, held safe. _

_ Fireworks and falling stars. _

If you lost **_that-_ **

-What was the _ point? _

_ ++++++ _

You  plan a good night, homemade pizza and cookies, a show you wanted to share with him.

 

Reasons not to leave, reasons to keep you.

 

You just wanted to love him.

 

And if tonight didn't work?

 

You were _ not _ thinking of that.

 

Jack at the door.

 

A sweet kiss and a warm embrace.

 

And you try not to count them as the last. Try not to linger, to make him question.

 

This will already hurt enough.

 

You made dinner look nice for being pizza, salad, and cookies.

 

Pretty plates, candles, an enbroiderd tablecloth.

 

A s if to say, look at what I'd do if you'd only keep me.

 

You pick at your serving, turning the salad to shreds. The pizza remains untouched.

 

You just can't.

 

"Y/N, what's wrong?"

 

"I- I have to tell you something, and It- it will change everything."

 

Jack's eyes dim a bit, and he goes quiet for a moment.

 

"I-  Did I do anythin-"

 

"No!  It's me. All me"

 

Jack shook his head.

 

"…Is there anyone else?"

 

"God, No!"  You cry, repulsed at even the thought of doing that to him.

 

"Then there _ is _ nothing-"

 

"I'm Asexual, Jack."

 

He blinks.

 

“So? How does that change-"

 

"It changes everything!" you cry.

 

"You don’t- I can't be what you want-"

 

You're miserable again. Miserable and terrified and you hate yourself, because now Sean is going to leave and it’s completely all your fault—

 

"Who said I wanted anything but you?

 

God, Y/N, that doesn’t make you wrong or weird or that something’s wrong with you. You’re still you. And you are worth loving"

 

Complete and utter acceptance shouldn't make you break but it does.

 

You are instantly wrapped in warm arms 

 

“M’sorry,” you choke.

 

"Shhh.” Jack said softly, “You have nothing to be sorry for. You should never be sorry for being true to yourself.”

 

“Are, are we okay?”

 

The warm. eager, kiss he gives is enough answer. 

 

You are loved, for who you are.

 

He’s right. It changes nothing

 

Love is love. and you two are enough as is. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you have an idea, just ask. If i think i can pull it off, you might get something written for you!  
> I change the tags, so check them to see what i will and won't write.  
> If the tag is there I will give it a shot!


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